in my dreams, there is a lake with a forested island in the center. we dance on sandy shores. i am always dancing with you in my dreams. there is never any music.
i dream about an angel. sometimes it is a woman with marble cheeks & bronze hair that gleams like a suncatcher. sometimes it is a young native american man. his hair is shorn & his chest is scattered with scars. i hope you’re looking out for me, i tell the angel. i would like to believe that something as beautiful as you would never leave. sometimes i imagine that i can feel a hand smoothing my hair as i fall asleep. i hope it’s you.
i dream about angels following their soldiers into war. the soldiers leave their weapons on the ground on christmas day. they sing together as the smoke clears. not even the angels have heard a choir like that before.
sometimes i dream about hands around my throat. when it happens while i’m awake, my head gets fuzzy; i short out. i am a program malfunctioning. i haven’t dealt with it & i can’t & i won’t. i write poems when the memories are too much to swallow, but i never say it for what it is. there’s no truth in it so there can’t be any healing. i think that i try to tell the truth in my dreams, but i can’t sleep anymore.