Dream Submerged

What few dreams I remember
are lotus petals, dancing slow tarantellas
with eddies and currents in a stream.

Some are sunk by heavy water
on their delicate surface,
but some reach a waterfall,

where they dive into violent foam below.
I can tell you what they do, where they go,
not what they are.

I do not know if they are velvet-white
with delicate pink veins,
or leather-tough, shiny with wax.

I cannot tell you how their fruit tastes.
Even if I manage to pluck one
from the water of waking,

it is quickly submerged
by rational morning thoughts –
getting the paper, whether I brushed my teeth.

Like Odysseus’ men, it is memory lost,
Unlike them,
I know where I have to go today.




[First published in Poetry Magazine.com, April 2001.]

10/09/2001

Posted on 10/09/2001
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