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