Good morning, -- I greet you when you open the door and with my greeting the smell of elderberry and of thyme and of a hundred herbs pours into your room. Look, the guests of the new day, -- I'd go on playfully waking you in the luster above the doorstep, but I can see: on the green screen of your eyes your dreams are still staggering: a horse carriage in Sarajevo, loaded with corpses and a walking, burning candle following the carriage. It sends cold shivers down my back: it's only who I dream such stageable horrors like an ocean satiated with shipwrecked corpses. Can it be that we are also sharing our dreams, like our legs, our hands? and we slip into each other's depths swimming, floating, with closed eyes, with nerves stripped to the skin ? First published in @3The Kenyon Review@1, Volume 22, #1, Winter 2000. www.kenyonreview.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CASTAWAY by WILLIAM COWPER A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED by JONATHAN SWIFT THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD: TRANSLATION by CAIUS PEDO ALBINOVANUS NEW YEAR'S EVE by GEORGE ARNOLD EIGHT VOLUNTEERS by LANSING C. BAILEY BLOUDIE JACKE OF SHREWSBERRIE; THE SHROPSHIRE BLUEBEARD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |