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.