Tag Archives: dreams

2014, Week 1: Synchronicity

Most nights I dream I
am digging a hole
as wide and deep
as a coffin. The walls
of the tomb smell like food;
naan bread, crab cakes,
worcestershire sauce.
I lie down and take
a deep breath.

But the other night
an invisible shaman
spoke in my ear.
I dreamed he taught me
how to heal the hairline
fractures splitting
people’s hearts, but
all I wanted to know
was how to heal my own.

I heard his tongue
cluck, cluck, like
a ruffled rooster
shaking out silken,
loose plumes.
He cackled
and told me that
more than half
of any wound is
healed by healing.

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Genevieve’s Cycle Two, Week Three: Anthem

forestpath

Seven a.m. post-sex godiva
chocolates and a blue sky wide
enough  to curl into.
You croon black magic
woman into my ear, tell me
I’m Jessie’s girl, ask me
what I dreamed last night.
Darling, I am in my cowboy
boots and so afraid of gaining
weight, I am an inch away from
your pretty love and trying not to
cram it into my mouth. What
is delicate, what is fragile anymore?
From this vantage point we
are a hundred pieces of the
sharpest glass scraped from one hundred
of the unluckiest, broken mirrors.
Our edges, they are pressed
together like this, like this and you
take my fingers between your teeth.
Turn it up. I’m your radio girl
and last night my dreams were of you,
they were strewn like bread crumbs on
the forest’s path, guiding me
back towards the morning.

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