We moved in September, and I’ve been almost reclusive since then. I haven’t made friends with my world yet, and so lack wherewithall to fulfil today’s prompt. This will have to do.
In The Dream
I had been away, and in that time
had somehow learned to dance.
Or to fly. That is one difficulty.
Sometimes the image, the dream
contains its context. Invisible,
but you understand. Not always.
But this is about the return.
Cat brier nipping my ankle like
a saw, its leaves are gold hearts,
its berries, bright red surprises.
I am alone for so long that when
I see him, familiar as a tree,
it becomes joy. And I fly
to him and hug him, happy
as a wet mongrel dog.
It is true: that you can
not know your heart’s desire