I Who Am Dreaming
the same person
who awakes
in the middle of the night
arms held in front of his face
gasping for breath
they’re just dreams
you say
then why do i hold this small golden egg
shell as thin as stomach lining
in the palm of my hand
see it here
underneath the pillow
how as with a silent dentist drill
the elf or faery who visited
carved a map of the dream world
all over the shell – here, the underwater
reef where I held my breath in the submersed car;
on this curve the broken wing of the emu
that ran, head bobbing, through the field of poppies -
like a Ukrainian egg painter
brushing out the subconscious world
and its shadows
in a matrix of colour
this is why i wake you
with laughter why
i kick and turn
leave the room while i sleep
step outside
puff clouds of icy breath
and wake half naked in snowdrifts
as the night turns over its silver
belly
breaches the land of dreams
and dissolves into day
© 2009 andrew kooman
