Crushed. Red and white boxes.
Perfect filters, lights, trays
lazy smoke swirling, relief;
lost in the week’s debris.
Clenched. Fists in tattered
pockets. Feeble resolve
rising need and fallen
Demanding smile, petite feet
glide across the old cement
beach. Arms fluttering, she
jumps into the verdant sea.
Commands, look at me, Mama.
Dance like a jellyfish, Mama
like me. Momentarily safe,
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.
© 2011Jules Jacob