Of Sleep and Dreams
by Deborah LaVeglia
The sun wakes me.
Its light coaxes me out of my dream,
forces me to crawl back inside my skin.
What is real
and what is unreal
divide themselves,
as blissful sleep puts on its coat and hat.
Departs.
I reclaim my body one section at a time.
Mouth: dry.
Muscles: stiff.
What I want is to find a way
back into that dream,
where there are only the two of us
in black and white,
and we share a cigarette, an inside joke
and some whiskey.
And , like a Frank Capra movie,
everything turns out right in the end.
All our friends line up to support us, and
nothing is allowed to prick our skin unexpectedly.
--published in Edison Literary Review:
Anniversary Issue, Sept., 2011
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