Here is another poem based on a dream:
I laughed when I described this dream;
its image of hibernating snakes.
My dream self is rolling them up in wool—blanketing them
with such silly seriousness.
I’m packing you away now, I say,
but keeping you
wrapped in wool blankets.
I’m wedging you into my cracks
but you are insulated.
My poor snakes are cold again
cold and stiff old snakes.
Stay alive, I tell them.
I don’t want to store you
putting you away again like fine lace, too nice
I’d worked years to thaw your coils
only to make them stiff again
So I wrap them.
Dare I hope my sedated snakes will revive,
become once more wiggling and alive,
if I abandon them?
At least I know they’re here, inside.
No! I can’t say it this time.
Can’t say …Wait for me.
I’ve worked too hard.
I want instead to shake them awake
I want them alive and with me,
colorful green ones handy in my pocket
and a bagful of angry rattlesnakes.
I even want back the big black snake
who moves under my shirt to sleep below my heart.
I want the serpent rainbow.