last night i dreamt that you served me

and my children, in a restaurant in the city.

that as you placed our steaming food on the table

you smiled a sweet malaise and caught my eye

for just an instant, but there were oceans in

that quick glance, the churning of a

thousand regrets. how you longed for

the children that sat beside me, for

stretched skin, teary eyes and tempers.

how you wished you had been more open

with your lovers, so that you could sit at night,

full of womb and blood and stars. how you wish

you had let him in, to tremble inside you, before

his elixir crashed against your tender walls, a calf 

of golden light formed within your softness.