Friday, July 20, 2012


A Dream

“your worst dream”
—Ted Hughes, “A Dream,”
Birthday Letters

The doorbell rings—
Gawd, it’s you back again

It’s like lifting the—
Lid of your coffin an inch

You’re back again—
In hushed dead daddy drag

“I’m back again, honey”
I don’t say anything to you

Dingy St. Peter’s next door—
Suddenly gongs like Chartres

An expensive birthday present—
Right down to the last franc

I tell him “Get lost, creep”—
“Dead husbands make me puke”

I wake up from the dream—
Fix myself a dry martini

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