Awake by Helicopter in Late Summer
I dreamt I was holding you up by the small of your back
in the barking Northwest ocean
where the water is cold
and seals are chiseled like bits of rock
from the coast
You had sweat on your stomach
and I knew as things are known in dreams
that the shoreline here and all of its wash
would be coming with eye-droppers
and pursed lips to suck
the islands of sweat from your navel
to drink away pieces of you with
their hands. I had this thought: that even
in thoughts you have left before I have met you
There’s a camp down the beach
of blownaway dresses. I’m awake now. Tell me
that helicopter isn’t looking for me
I have read it three times already. I know I like it a great deal, but can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe its roughness. Anyway it’s good.>KB
Thanks KB. I had a similar reaction to it. Love leaving poems like this a little choppy (like the ocean?)
Wow, truly a captivating write!
Thanks Niky! You’re great for coming back.
I had this thought: that even
in thoughts you have left before I have met you.
To me, these verses capture that familiarity we have with people we have never met that only seems to happen in dreams.
Exactly, Jeremy. But also my fear. What happens when we finally discover familiarity while awake? Will that person or thing or place also vanish?
That’s a great question and I might share some of your fear too. But I find that familiarity, once we find it, has a way of always being there even when what is familiar has departed.