Poem: Dream | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
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Poem: Dream 

In my dream, you were dead
but you returned to have dinner with us
I didn’t want you to know you were dead
I was afraid if you knew, you would leave and never come back
I shut your coffin so you would not see yourself lying there.

Afterwards, we were walking up many steps
to get to a tower
like the one in Florence that we visited the summer you were thirteen.
Before we got to the top
you turned into a bug, an insect
Usually, insects repulse me, but this one did not.
I bent down and held out my hand
and told you to hop on, I would carry you the rest of the way.
I held you and climbed to the top.
When we got there, you flew away,
My empty hand frozen in the air, stunned.






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