Dreams II

Not yet asleep, his house, his bed, I breathe
His skin, reshape my legs to fit his legs;
But when I leave the waking dark to feel
Another air, I’m faithless to this place:

Dream buildings.  See, they rise with radiant walls,
Yet skeletally, fling steel bones from earth
To air, float nets of brick and painted wood
On broad, calm lakes of plaster framed with sky –

Tall homes, night visible inside, whose rooms
Change shape: doors vanish, melt to curtained traps,
Blue mirrors glint with eyes that trace the path,
The hidden latch to open secret stairs...

When morning falls, I’ll start awake to rise
And smile, as though I never left his house.

[Los Angeles, 12/18/91-6/19/92]