I dreamt of you
again
this dream
is one of my dreams
the kind that changes
waking life
the kind of dream
from which you must
sweep up the ashes
a dream of fire
and of being changed
by the fire
in this dream
I felt your lips
on mine
in mine
in a way I never
have
in this life
behind a curtain
in a desert
in the aromas
of subterranean
spices
in the dream it is afternoon
morning
the past
the future
all at once
swelling up
spilling open
beads of sweat
becoming a drop
of ink
that falls from your mouth
between
my hands
into an army of words
my eyes run over their shapes
like trembling hungry fingers
across skin
I straddle this piece
of paper
draw the contours of the letters
into my body
and come