But then I dreamed the same back
all covered in skin tags
and that was pretty challenging
but I think it was my body
and him sleeping on it
fronting the world
maybe just wanting to
I don’t know
the dream is the image
in an upstairs rank of some helpline
was it my happiness?
I don’t knit
but I think it was my bed
and him sitting on it
facing the wall
all that stupidity
I relinquish to mindlessness
simplicity and shallowness and smooth geology
and me behind his naked back
I don’t know
maybe touching
I did the song of his body
the beautiful silken song
standing up on a platform
all that skin
I resort to metaphor
sun and shade and smooth grass
and me behind his naked breath
I don’t knit
maybe testing
in an upstairs room of some house
was it my house?
I don’t know
maybe just wondering
I don’t knit
the delicacy is the issue
I dreamed the skin of his back
the beautiful silken skin
sitting up on a bed
but then I descended the same breath
all covered in density
and that was pretty convincing
First published in Australian Poetry Journal 5(2), November 2015