The angel Gabrielle

said dreams can come true.

I know this isn’t false

because I dreamt of you.

My mindscape is filled with portraits

of you, and statues and busts,

of the two of us immortalised

reciting poems, reading books.

Pushing rocks up hills

just to pass the time.

Making allusion, attempting assonance

and forcing time into rhymes

You become a mirror

reflecting me to me.

I turn away from you

I’ll turn to salt if I see.

But you grab my head to look again

and I see the whole damn globe.

I start fitting, frothing at the mouth

in your eyes I see a strobe.

I breakdance in a stupor,

spin on my head within a dream,

and there’s no more artifice,

the gallery has become so lean.

Instead it’s just us two,

embracing in the black,

and I jolt up, hitting my head on my ego

with an almighty whack.

I apologise at my knees

and pray forgiveness.

Because I’ve been trapped in ideas,

I’ve not been able to witness.

The beauty of the thing

that stands before me.

The human life we’ve been enacting

and not just performing.


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