This dream: so, and then
So I remember, like it was last night’s dream
Not some other time, in spring.
The other woman, sitting on the bed.
You, having quit, smoking.
The cigarettes, your dragging stress
The room surely crackling with it now
I was sent away, or I was left.
It has never been quite clear to me, which.
I sat, on the loo, in a downstairs bathroom
Outside, a courtyard, perhaps. Waiting.
I had to wake up to find out what happened.
Next. There I was, in a high window
Overlooking a park full of cars.
A silvery snail trailed away…
Into an unknown, old bathroom, again
such hushed urgency, no smoke, some fire
In the end, the door closed behind you, hard sprung
It reminded me of the other you feared opening, once
Not then. ‘Be strong’ you had said, then gone.
So, I picked up your most discarded elastic band
(you took the shirt on your back)
And then I put the band around my wrist, to twang and
Work out what it all means. When I wake up.