Shard of a poem inspired by a dream

The first time I cried,
there were no tears.
You spoke to me from a dream,
and told me to shave my beard.

My beard? My strength?

I woke up and went swimming in the lake,
cold and dark in late September,

Inside, a painting on the wall,
provenance unknown, ugly
but from a distance decent.

My hair wet, I watched the leaves outside
and waited for the rain.

The cat on the wide windowsill
turned her head as if to speak,
as if she sensed my mouth about to open,
and the forest quiet kept my self to a minimum.

One Response to “Shard of a poem inspired by a dream”

  1. Craft Says:

    […] (or seeking publication) of most of my poems. Something has changed for me today; I found this bit of a poem I had written some time ago and felt the impulse to publish it on I am also constricted […]

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