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Thomas J. Erickson

  

The Toll

 When dawn breaks, I have a waking dream

 of floating in a vast sea on my raft-bed

 away from the shores of my uninterrupted sleep.

 

 Stirrings and murmurs jostle me out of sleep

 to find her in the throes of a storm-dream.

 In the broken light, I guide her back to bed.

 

 A town and years away, there is another bed

 where a woman lies in a fitful sleep

 clawing and tearing me out of her dreams.

 

 

 o0o  o0o  o0o  o0o  o0o  o0o  o0o 

 

The Night I Held Your Feet

they were so cold they felt wet

 

it was a simple thing

a thing to be done throughout

the rest of our lives

 

it was not supposed to become

a simulacrum of desire or a part

of thee lacunae between loves

 

it was not supposed to become a memory