Snapshot 02 February 02005 [Belated]

I am dreaming again
of prisons, and whales
    breaching in Douglas

Channel, that slow under-
water rising. You are
    riding your bike

through rice fields; sleeping
spooned to a long-haired
    woman. I wake

in darkness, into this cage
of pain, nosed by happy
    dogs. Hoarfrost

whitens the grass; slickens
the steps to the river.
    Your cool season

approaches its end. Here,
cows are calving, their milk
    drops. Brighid's

Day brings buds
to the birch trees.
    Tonight I will

dream the shadows
of whales deep
    in the water.

Soon snow will mound
in this garden again.
    I drink my bitter

coffee and read that
your mango this morning
    was especially sweet.

Comments

[Karen]

Wonderful - but why are you dreaming of prisons?

Those dogs are here, too - and a cat who steals the pillows.

[SB]

I used to work in a prison -- and it's a powerful metaphor, don't you think?

I do occasionally dream of prisons, but you can never be certain that my poems reflect my own reality. I often invent for the poem; even the narrator may not be me.

And sometimes my invented narrator may wander off and steal bits of someone else's experience, as I think you know, Ms. Moos.

;-)

[Karen]

Well, then I suppose that prisons popping up wouldn't be unusual.
As if dreams were "usual"...
I had one during my catnap this morning where I was in one of those places that changes as if it's perfectly natural. From an office building to a department store (kinda) then a huge armory like factory to a snowy hillside. All the time I was lost and walking around in a bikini. My bikini days have been over for decades.

I don't think that one deserves a poem - maybe a short story? I was glad to wake from it!

[finnegan]

I am always dreaming again! Nice poem.