Coats
This morning, I dreamed of you,
calling back to me,
you were standing there
hesitant as sparrow, and pale,
an arctic air bristling
the down on your arms:
Please bring me some coats.
God makes it so cold here.
So I brought you a blue coat,
the color gravity would be,
to bring you back here,
earth-bound and safe.
Then I offered a silk coat,
with silk wings
and a fur hood against all the ice.
In speed of the dream
I wove a coat
from the thread of my hair.
Then I found the old ermine coat
no one knew then
your costumes wore you
in their huge dark sleeves.
Finally, I bought bolts
of precious cloth, gleaming like opals,
and fashioned a width
for your bird-thin shoulders,
though I knew I could no change any weather—
with my gravity, bribes, and jewels.
Though I still run to you now
like a kite in the wind of the dream.
