In my dream you are a lion shrugging,
gesture rustling into sound: human
and out a thin stream of tap water
poured from my measuring cup
a hand shakes holding, and the heavy
head swings up like a camera
loose on its second-most-used axis,
quick into its viewer: human
turning toward me over small
distances, seconds, sunrise a small
white sheet on the floor and you speak
the first words of the day to me, your voice
a shaking hand, clink of two quarters
folded in, and loosely, the cool of them,
the smell of them, can’t get it out—human
I say in sunlight and shrug.
__________________________________
“Aubade, as the Addressee” from Your Face My Flag, copyright 2022 by Julian Gewirtz, used by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org.