Knox Dreamspeak
Finally I drifted off sometime
in the wee hours, when the storm waned
and the beat of rain on the van’s roof
slowed and so did Sylvie’s breath
as she released herself
into sleep.
And now the dawn light sneaks in,
seeping through the van’s cracks,
and Sylvie is lying with the crown
of her head tucked where my arm meets
my body; I don’t know how we ended up
this way but we did and far
be it from me to rob her
of precious sleep so I lie still
and look at her closed eyes,
moving fast under her eyelids
and her solemn eyebrows and the glow of the new
day as it filters through the summer gold
of her hair and listen to the determined grinding
of her molars and the murmurs she makes
in her dreaming and her dreamspeak:
Cal, she says and says something
I can’t understand. Again, Cal, and her mouth holds it
like a name, cradles it like something
she’s afraid to let fall
into the dirt.