Praise Dream
I praise the dream world
where black is now pink
and navy blue never appears
except in the delicate shells
of tiny bivalves.
A world where men dream
but women dream harder
because
it is harder to bear life
new life than
the same old life.
We dream harder and more often.
We do not lock our dreams into nightgowns.
We do not hang our dreams on the back of the closet door.
I dream of praise songs
that paint my world in daylight
with the wonder
of an owl’s night vision.
I praise my dreams in the daylight
because my struggle is with the daylight.
Night-time can get by on its own ancient knowing.
Oh, to be unmade like night dreams,
like a night bed.
A bed of night flowers,
sweet jasmine scent,
below the bedroom window.
I praise the needlessly barking dog;
he is ready even if I am not.
Published on The Laundry Line, June 17, 2025.
