Monday, October 19, 2009

“When the work of interpretation has been completed the dream can be recognized as wish fulfillment.”

—Sigmund Freud

1. You are on a hill.

I don’t know if

the weather is fine because

it’s your dream. Barbed

wire surrounds you. I’d like

for there to be cool wind

that makes you halfwake

and slide your hand into the elastic

of my underwear. It’s not

a sexual gesture. You are looking

for solid ground, Sanctuary.

2. You are against the wall.

I don’t what part

of the wall is you, what part wall.

Green vines creep up. There is

no wind. Nothing to link to

the howling in my chest.

A tic—I see you—brick

and blood. You do not reach

out. My name is on the ground.

3. This one is rabbits.

This one is skin without safety,

grass without pigment, juice

from an unknown fruit. If you

can trust it, it might kill you,

so you trust it and it does and

you wake up.

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