After more than half a year of poetic silence, I asked my dreams to send a poem.
Well, more specifically, I asked my dreams to send me a poem about clouds.
I did not dream about clouds.
I did not even dream a poem.
Instead, my dreams delivered to me a baby … and one word.
It’s a start.
The following poem is from a dream report of July 3, 2010:
Baby’s First Word
The baby in my arms says, “Okay.”
“That’s your first word,” I exclaim. “Okay!”
I coax him: “Say it again. Say, ‘Okay!’ ”
But he looks bored. “Okay,” I repeat. “Okay, Okay.” But I’m the only one talking now.
I can only utter one word, the baby tells me, no words this time, his arched eyebrows and impatient grimace say it all. But I understand everything you say, he continues.
I try not to act surprised. I try not to run through all the things I’ve said in his hearing. I try not to wonder what he knows.
“He’s two weeks old, and already speaking!” I brag
To the mother, filling her cart beside me. We’re in the grocery store,
And this baby in my arms is already reaching for what he wants.