Last night I dreamed of Manderley again.
A passage marked by a flower, a hidden screen
That neither player managed to navigate.
I sat next to you for a minute. Then you went
On to another stage. I’m not about
To embrace an ancient faith or serve
My emperor. I don’t even have an emperor.
Sweet kisses of distraction, sweet release
Of sleep. My notes assembled in the corner.
The things I thought I heard you say might not
Match up with your reality. Can I blame you?
For a second or two, the armor melted
Into a psychic rose. I called out in the stillness,
And I was still, unknowing, the thing you made.
Copyright © 2016 John Beer
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.