i dreamed i was in a beautiful black and grey marble bathroom. it was huge, the size of my bedroom or bigger. the lights were dim, and the giant tub was a jaccuzzi and burbling and sizzling and candles were burning and it smelled like rich dark scented oils and i was in nothing but my panties, preparing to get in the bath. it was summer's night, the window was open, dark green curtains blowing in a gentle breeze, and i had had a few snorts of brandy, with another perched on the solid edge of the tub, waiting for me. i was perfectly alone.

then the curtain blew a little harder and noise came in, the noise of a public swimming pool packed with teenagers. i tried to ignore it (as if it were an inconsequential fly buzzing around me) and move into the bath, my back to the window, my big ass barely covered by my underwear, and then i heard the unrelenting and evil braying laughter of teenaged boys. i still tried to ignore it but i realized i did not, at that point, feel comfortable taking my underwear off anymore. i started to climb in the tub with it still on, and the laughter got louder and more insistant and meanspirited but i tried to tell myself it wasn't directed at me, it wasn't directed at me, it wasn't directed at me. but then i was in the tub, and sank into the water that was only a moment ago so inviting but now felt like nothing but a way to hide, and turned to the window, and the boys were there looking in, wearing their cute little surfer shorts over their chiseled and tan bodies, pointing at me in my lumpy mostly-nakedness, laughing in derision and disgust.

and i put my face up to the dark marble ceiling and howled in pain and sadness. it woke leon up.

broken hearts are for jerks

i ran backwards through the morning;
from toast to coffee
from slippers to bare feet
from shafty light through slatted blinds
to sunset at 6am.
i stilted moved,
impossible robe flutter
from arms to floor
and body turning
down to bed
and head to pillow
and hand to heart
and eyes to closed.
breath deep to shallow
dreams rage to stillness;
in backwards morning i run
you are for the finding,
you are for the having.

small

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and cared for, watched after, worried about
and every shoulder
open to me
and every hand
in my hair
all i ever wanted
was to be
small.

small to fit in the crook
small to fit in the palm
small to fit in the heads
of angels
small to fit
in a candycake dress
sugar dumpling
frosted face

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and safe and tucked in and mused over
and every eye
blinking for me
and every nose
in my letters
all i ever wanted
was to be
small.

small to sneak in windows
small to sneak in hearts
small to sneak in beds
of lovers
small to sneak
in a smoothline tussle
slick shouldered
hair puller

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and wanted
in my smallness.

i had a dream last night that i had to take the kids to this other kid's birthday party that was being held in a partially underground bunker that was filled with mud. i mean, mud up to my waist. there were two picnic tables, one for kids to sit at and one for grown-ups to sit at. it was terrible trying to slog through all the mud and get to the tables, made worse by the fact that laurel couldn't walk through it at all because she is so short she would have been submerged. it didn't matter, we were all completely covered in gunk by the time we made it. there was nowhere to wash our hands and i was very worried about the children having to eat food with mud all over it. i think the birthday kid was having some kind of monster truck show party, and everyone was really excited, and the other parents didn't seem bothered by the mud. but i was bothered, oh yes.

noah

laundering poetry through his guitar
he used each delicate morsel i threw his way
to repair a rung on a ladder
that was crumbling in age.

i thought of him as i thought of my tricycle:
young, for youth, and distant; a patina
that never allowed my fancy
to shine beyond a pixel, or few.

how surprising to find in the winter sunlight
each bound kiss and holding hand
stirred curiousity that until now was only
fleeting technological fun.

his patient ministration, his minstrel-ations
patched hairline crack after splintered rung
until the ladder, more solid than before,
supported his weight.

and when he put down the guitar
and he started to climb, hand over hand,
i teetered at the top, warming in winter,
surprised to realize: i was waiting.

last night i dreamed we were face-to-face
and you would bestow upon me firm-lipped kisses
one after the other.
i would try to make you pause in each embrace
force your lips to remain
against mine
bite, slip of the tongue, breath
hands on cheeks
eyes locked
and none of it worked.
my heart was so filled with longing
and sadness
it grew to magnificent proportions
a pain, an unnerving pain
in head and chest
as you laid empty kiss after empty kiss
upon my full lips
and my heart burst in their wake
and i woke.

unfurled in all her longing and
hair done up in ribbons,
she moved through each moment
like fronds in the pool.
when questioned so thoroughly
her eyes cast (unwittingly)
spells through a mired mind
and devoured every last of your breath.
who could open umbrellas in wind or
in sun and who could put a single arm
around everyone, but the girl who
stole your last step from the dance?
in pearls of spring drops, she sees him again
and sink, oh sink, when her light shines away
from that puddle darkly forming
at the ends of your toes; all tears.
sink, oh sink, in deep utter shame
her mouth could move mountains
but she does not speak (or even look)
to the goats in the crags anymore.

i dreamed i was trapped in an abandoned mansion with endless halls and locked doors and boarded-up windows so there was no escape. i had two cats following me around, a ginger tabby and a white siamese. we got so hungry we had to eat hand lotion. it was from lush, and tasted exactly like it smelled. i was crying while i put it in my mouth and tried to swallow it.

i dreamed of my grandfather last night.

we were in a strange house, but i think it was mine. it was small and old but well-kept and beautifully furnished. everyone was getting ready for a big exciting party somewhere - maybe new year's eve. i was panicking because i felt like i had too much to do and not enough time, plus, my grandfather, who was supposed to be dead, was sitting on my big brown overstuffed velvet couch, and i really wanted to talk to him. he was simply dozing and waking up occassionally to watch television, much like he did on the second-to-last trip i took to ontario to see him before he died. anyway, i kept trying to put on make-up and screwing up with the colours and where it was going. by the end of my attempt to "do" my face i had purple eyeshadow all over my forehead and i was hating my hair (in fact, i really am hating my hair right now - the bangs and colour, anyway...) i also kept thinking of cds i had to take the party because the hostess claimed she didn't have any so i was trying to stuff my purse with them, and the food i wanted to bring. finally i managed to get almost everything together and everyone was waiting in a big truck outside for me. i was pulling on my boots and then i was rushing into the livingroom to say goodbye to grampa. it was then i realized that once i left for the party, he would vanish from my life again. so i tried to calm down and take my time, but it was hard, with people honking the horn at me and yelling for me to hurry up.

i took his big hand in mine. it felt cool and smooth and i saw the age spots. he was looking at me calmly through his big glasses. i told him i loved him and that i was sorry to be going. he put his arms around me and pulled me in close and spoke quietly in my ear. he said, "you don't have to worry about me. you have to worry about you, and your children, and your future grandchildren." he had me pressed up so hard against his body that my face was mushed into his shoulder and i started to cry. he continued talking, "all my life i felt i had to prove something to people and now i realize that the only obligation i had, really, was to think hard about what was right for my children and grandchildren, and fulfill that. all i had to do was do right by them. the rest of it didn't matter. and i wish i had done a better job at it, but i didn't, because i was working hard at other stuff, trying to prove things to the world. i didn't really enjoy doing a lot of the things that had to be done right by my children and grandchildren so i just didn't do them. don't make those mistakes. no matter how much you don't like it, if you know it is the right thing, you owe it to those beautiful kids to do it. you have an obligation." he kept talking like this for a long time in a very soothing and deep voice with me squished up against his boney body, and i kept crying into his shoulder, crying all my eye make-up off. it was like he was looking inside me and seeing how i have been feeling lately, so dark and depressed about my obligations that i am having problems fulfilling. i just cried and cried and cried. i woke up crying.

last night i dreamed that i was in a strange roadside diner that was basically a mobile home. there was an east indian woman there with her three children and she was looking very sad and desperate. i started to talk to her but she was reluctant, so instead i focused on the children. the boy was about ten, the girl about seven, and the little girl was maybe two. we were sipping sodas and laughing and making faces. i realized i had to get going and was saying goodbye just as two east indian men came into the diner, angry at the mother for something. the children's faces went dark and forlorn. i was reluctant to leave but felt pressed for time - i was driving my van to pick some people up and was going to be late. i felt bad about leaving because an argument was breaking out but i didn't understand the language it was happening in. i walked out of the diner and got into my van, just as the two men came out, one of them holding the infant girl, both of them yelling, and the mother following behind, sobbing and pleading. the two other children emerged just as i was starting the engine and the boy came running to my window. "please take us with you," he said, "please. we can't stay this way." i looked over at the argument - the men each had a hand on the baby girl and were playing a kind of tug-of-war with her; the seven year old girl was climbing into the passenger seat. "i don't know, what about your mother?" i asked. "never mind her," the boy said, angrily, "she isn't good for anything, she neglects us for them," he motioned at the two men. "why are they fighting?" i asked. "they both think they are the baby's father," he replied, "but mother knows that neither of them are." i nodded slowly. the seven year old looked stoically ahead as though simply waiting for me to take them away. i thought for a moment and said to the boy, "okay. get the baby. we will go." he nodded back at me and calmly turned and approached the arguing adults, asking to hold his sister. none of them knew what we'd planned, of course, and were happy to have someone else take responsibility for the crying child while they continued to yell at each other. the boy slowly walked to the van and climbed in to the backseat, holding the baby, who was still crying. i backed out of my parking spot and started to just calmly drive away, the gravel griding under my tires, and the vision of the mother and two men arguing growing smaller in my rearview mirror. only when we'd turned a corner and they were completely out of sight did the seven year old girl climb into the backseat and burst into tears while her older brother held both her and the baby tightly. the boy's face remained blank and dark, he looked out the front window at night falling as i drove them away, not knowing anything about where i'd take them or what i'd do with them; only that i had to rescue them. i didn't even know their names.