I remember my first dream

And some more that I dreamed

in that first bed. And I remember

the movie that scared me into dreaming about dogs

to begin with. And the decades of dogs that followed my nights

after that. And I remember dreams

about arms and legs wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon

and dreams where love was a flock of silver sea gulls, and dreams

in which I wake and wake but am still asleep. The dreams

about screaming but nothing comes out. I remember

the messages that floated through dreams

like opening just the right fortune cookie. And dreams

about the hawk and the white deer and the one

when the crazy neighbor healed me with a glass of water. And when

you climbed the spiral stairs to call me back

and how I kept waking without you

again and again.