where the writers are
Dream House

I dreamed the familiar dream of a strange house
I can’t place; vast windows and redwood
framed by gray trees bending in lazy moonlight.

The house commands the tides from its cliff throne,
and so did you; when you crashed the car
and crashed your fist through the sliding glass door,
leaving drops of blood sparkling with glass
on the dream house floor.

Last night I dreamed you crashed into my soul,
and my heart rolled from the rocky throne,
floating on quicksilver waves
before sinking into the sanctuary of the sea.