Dreams
Dreams are the only
after life we know:
the place where the children
we have become;
there are as many leaves as
in their migrations
as birds whose deaths we learn of
by the single feather
left behind: a clue
a particle of sleep
caught in the eye
they are as irritriviable as sand
when the sea creeps up
its long knife glittering
in its teeth
to claim it's patrimony
sometimes my father
in knickers and cap
waits on that shore,
the dream of him
a wound not even morning can heal.
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