Poem 18, June 18

Night before last

Night before last I dreamed about you.

Three times I dream the same dream.

You are somewhere I do not recognize.

You are not in Savannah

unless you are in the apartment on base.

You are not in Columbia-

not in any house I know.

You are alone.

That is the strange part.

Your silence strikes me dumb.

I have a bird’s eye view of you

in each separate dream, the theme,

one of you as you read & agonize.

Confused, I see you are in a cabana

by the ocean & I see your face.

I realize you are out of your cumbia.

I see Old Seventy Creek in the flow

of tears you cry. They cut me to the bone;

they shred my very heart.

I feel a sudden chill of death; I go numb.