In my dreams before I met you
Snow clings to my face, mist caresses my hair,
haze dampens my eyes, dust
falls all around and dies. Clothes
(oddly enough) strewn all about, clothes
In the washing machine twirling in doubt.
Oh Jesus the suds are starting to come out!
besides, I am dead, bleeding from without
“And the icy grave of our father!”
I would like to shout. (Alas, I’m dead.)
You enmeshed in my patented cells. No
exorcism, correct-o-vision, no expunge-o-
jectile, wild panic! You, steel, reflect
white gold; I steal, reflect, grow old
Steel is always so-objective. My thievery
Lights up moonsunstars, opens the sky,
hangs out laundry on mars, crosses
Icy snow without falling to the bottomless
begin. You are always so goddam
Incorrect, cleansed of sin. I, the light
correct, the dark wind.