by Rachel Creager Ireland
Dear friend, at last you return.
Now I visit your dark Dreaming,
two eyes closed, the third open.
I find myself on fertile ground,
painting the laundromat yellow,
evading the wasps on the back porch.
And here is my grand old house,
which I’d forgotten I owned.
This time I’ll take the children to the attic
to explore and choose small treasures,
this time I’ll move in for good.
I’ve sent my dead mother to enjoy
a tea party with the ladies who teach
manners. At a music festival,
an old friend hands me an envelope,
Sandwiches of taco meat and
butterscotch pudding are served.
On one side, a girl with her pet beaver
on a leash, on my other side, a boy
recording sounds with his camera.
O Divine Neptune, I sink, a stone,
into your watery depths.
Never leave me again,
in that dreamless sleepless bleak
of your retrograde.