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Dear Tiara

I dreamed I was a mannequin in the pawnshop window

   of your conjectures.

I dreamed I was a chant in the mouth of a monk, saffron-robed

   syllables in the religion of You.

I dreamed I was a lament to hear the deep sorrow places

   of your lungs.

I dreamed I was your bad instincts.

I dreamed I was a hummingbird sipping from the tulip of your ear.

I dreamed I was your ex-boyfriend stored in the basement

   with your old baggage.

I dreamed I was a jukebox where every song sang your name.

I dreamed I was an elevator, rising in the air shaft

   of your misgivings.

I dreamed I was a library fine, I’ve checked you out

   too long so many times.

I dreamed you were a lake and I was a little fish leaping

   through the thin reeds of your throaty humming.

I must’ve dreamed I was a nail, because I awoke beside you still

   hammered.

I dreamed I was a tooth to fill the absences of your old age.

I dreamed I was a Christmas cactus, blooming in the desert

   of my stupidity.

I dreamed I was a saint’s hair-shirt, sewn with the thread

   of your saliva.

I dreamed I was an All Night Movie Theater, showing the

   flickering black reel of my nights before I met you.

I must’ve dreamed I was gravity, I’ve fallen for you so damn hard.

from Sasha Sings the Laundry on the LineFind it in the library

Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2010
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.

Published in Poems Sean Thomas Dougherty

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