Anamnesis

it feels like remembering

the events of a dream

in which you died falling

but never hit the ground

it feels like waking / drenched

in sweat / as you’re thrust

out of fiction’s womb and into

the light of morning

It feels like the quiet assurance

(when day is breaking)

that the ash trees on the boulevard

and the cars scooting by

and the sparrows chirping

In their canopies of dappled light

that these things are real

and all that came before

was a nightmare — plain and simple

every time we meet

it is for the first time

and every day that I fall for you

I know I will hit the ground