“That kind of blockage, exiling one’s self from one’s self—have you ever experienced it?” – William Carlos Williams
Sometimes we say to one
a goodbye
meant for another. Morning
& the meperidine dream
breaks to shaking. My husband
guides me by his hands
on my
hips like a window-
dresser wheeling a mannequin
into sunlight, toward its reflection. I dreamt
of being, like fruit,
faceless.
The surgeon insists it’s
the swelling. He must’ve learned
to stitch on the flesh of an
orange, unless this idea is an ambrosia
the gods pretend
to eat so that when we steal,
we steal pathetically.
The bath reminds me
of a lover. The meperidine
guides me by its
hands on
the glass. He holds my head as if a baby’s
& tilts me back. I dreamed of being faceless
like morning. The bath reminds me
of a window. The dream—
it breaks like a stitch. . . .
Sometimes we say to one the goodbye
another meant.
