In sleep,
we sometimes breach
the land of the dead.

Mid-morning rain runs over windshield
while arms tingle, chest aches.

In the off chance this is a heart attack,
I pull over, turn on the hazards
slouch in the car and wait for death.

Who will find me – an angel
with sleep still in its eyes
who takes time to call for help,
or someone like you,
too selfish to stand or sit,
too busy listening to the whispers
of demons in your own head.

When you needed passage, I pulled you into
my burning boat, protecting you from waters
bitterly cold, and in that safety,
I wished we could have stayed always.

but you knew I was a resident of
an already descending day
so you created a considerable space
between you and me, choosing not to see
my forfeited forever, my given eternity.

If only your eyes would have given you away.
Instead, expressionless and opaque, your face stone
as I carried you along, nothing to give, nothing to say,
but still holding on, biding your time
till end of day, waiting for a new dawn.

During days we forget
except for the forget me nots
swimming in our heads.

Meandering memories
dislodged from the mind
returning in their domain
the territory of dreams
reigning in our sleep.

Though we resist
they win over us
as we lay in bed.