IN THE VERY NIGHT OF LAST NIGHT


I slept on a dream
large as an arctic whale –
nasal passages full of nasturtium.

To navigate this lush
revved up reverie
with the impetus
of impenetrable percussion – 

to perforate waking light
leaving peek holes 
for dreams to arc, for dreams

to see me awaken in rapture
with the shawl
of their fragments
left upon my head

covering me as if veiled
in light, veiled
in displaced memory.