Last night I dreamt
of an endless well by my feet
and I was at a podium like a preacher
with a book in my hand. People came
to ask me questions, permission to dive.
I kept waiting for the water, growing
impatient because the general populous
did not know what to ask, so I waited
told myself, if you were there, if you
joined the line, this whole tired business
of hearing the wrong thing, bitter
in my ear would be over.
Even when I awoke, checked
the clock three times I kept waiting
for your voice to ask me something
so I could sleep. Then I began to wonder
if the whole mirage was somehow tied
to your existence. You were gone
and my body, the conductor
picking up a sound wave
like a metal rod in the middle
of the desert began to shake.