The Good Dream

You are Pegasus dipping wings in a clear pool.
Under a blanket, I touch the bare sun.
My hand, neither burnt
Nor melting - I flicker the yellow dominion.
Turning back, you are the cool night,

 

The Joseph star rising, first and last,
As I follow. Such comfort is the muddled dawn.

You are the plum and the blackbird,
The purple violets of proximity.
From my side, a plucked wing.
Lady in the woods leans into darkness.
Her nightingale cacophony shuts out the lights.
Listen to the dreams and sighs of children -
My head on this pillow, o husband of lullabies and mirrors.

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