She Tries Her Best to Explain
In my dreams, there were colours.
In the distance, I could see a mountain,
Shining with a dull copper glow,
Collapsing into a ridge of ice and black stone.
The sky above buzzed with frost and it excited me,
The way that the snow and the ice
And the stone and the copper
All fell together,
Cascading down into me
Like a steady stream of diamonds.
I became them,
A woman of marble and metal,
Of blues and reds.
I suppose they were pleasant dreams,
If that’s what you’d like to call them.
Pleasant seems too small a word.
I wish I knew the word.
Maybe, if I did,
I could bring a little of it back.
You know, they say in the stories
That names have power to create and destroy.
When I was dreaming,
I knew so many names I can’t say anymore.
