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September Dream

An eternity, for the Asphodel, is a brief few
months. It’s been a decade, as the crow flies,

ten days on Venus, ten Venus days,
each, longer than a year.

When I’m without you, I feel it
deep in bone and tissue. The cells in me

search for you. In a dream, I find myself
in exactly your orbit, my body

feels each revolution, but my mind
is at a family reunion—

I’m a teacher again, which is how I know
I’m in a dream. I sit for hours at a slot machine,

the cherries and the sevens and the    BAR

don’t line up for me, not ever.

Now, I’m doing dream laundry, washing
sheets and towels and wouldn’t you know it,

a blanket I have in the real world:
here and now melts into dream,

and I promise myself dual realities.
I give myself cake and ice cream

and a tear tattoo, and when I wake
I find you, too.


Rock salt is quadrate,
looks like candy,
ice cubes for barbie.
The history of salt
lays lovingly around bodies
raked brine,
the mines,
vast tunnels,
the crystals so clear
they’re white,
so white
they look cold.
I house these caverns
made pillars,
my body
produces crystals,
but immediately
expels them,
it doesn’t take
a pickaxe,
or a steady hand.
I open my mouth
and quartz sits
on my tongue, 
dares you to take it.

image: Aaron Burch