about the breadbox

in the dream,
i meet a refugee couple on their first day
free in the u.s.
they are a man and a woman
in their mid 50s
and they are exhausted but their eyes
are filled with so much light
i first meet them in the morning and then
later encounter them
at the end of the day
at which point one of them is literally walking on the sides of his feet,
which means the rest of his body is alos
sliding along on the sidewalk
perhaps we are in portland, or
someone is interviewing the two of them
on their landing
and i’m there
continuing to stay with the sidewalk-laying man
until i know he’s going to be ok
he reaches a palm to my ankle
for connection/gratitude
and then the dream turns third person
and i’m watching it on a film
and in the film,
this young woman is super excited about
her dream crush (young immigrant/refugee)
and how she invited him to homecoming
and she’s pretty sure she’ll get a yes and she can barely
stand the anticipation
and then the scene switches to him
(dream crush)
suiting up in his work clothes
(heading out to hoe and endless field or
descend into the mine)
deleting texts from her
not because he isn’t interested but
because his reality
doesn’t allow room for it
_______

the green of the parsley patch
the red pink lemon yellow white deep maroon
of the dahlia petals/snapdragon blooms
the bright orange of cosmos petals
all despite the light frost
coating this morning’s ground
_______
stand in the sun the medicine
ellena suggests
for healing the wickedness of this cold
_______
amy and i laughing
two time zones apart
about the breadbox
that shall remain untouched
_______
leggings pulled up above my knees
as i wade into the pond to
float/soak the willow branch bundles
so that we may weave them
two weeks from now
and the consequent walking barefoot
from lookfar to whitehouse
pulling the empty cart behind me

_______
emory and i on the living room couch before dinner
where the sidewalk ends opened on y lap
true story he requests by title
_______
superhero halloween costumes
have finally surpassed princess costumes
for girls an npr reporter states

 

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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