MY TRUCK

This bright morning breaks into sundogs flying

across bedroom walls window light fallen flat

on a carpet of sheep hair tied into Buddha curls

showing faceless shadow puppets made by leaves

dancing outside big as hands with the sun in their palms

I sit silently in the corner chair remembering the hollow

hour of two when I awoke clear-eyed in the absence

of all this light disconcerted by another dream

another retelling of how you left your preparations

my sense of loss before losing before finding myself

rushing to the cool dark surface of separation

I tell myself it’s another dream a revision of the story

in this version you’re surrounded by women I don’t know

finally I offer the use of my truck to move your stuff

but you shake your head I’m beginning to understand

there’s no easy answer to this question unless

the test the room the light the pieces of rainbow

and more than this a vibration the wind’s

other half an echo before the birth of sound

will reveal itself when I’m least expecting it

from the beginning they said we were soul mates

it seems we can’t see who we are without looking

through the lenses of other eyes in the end beauty

engulfs all the senses we were born with in one breath

 

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