A Dream Poem by Morgan Michaels

Dream, gone dream
now dried like sweat to skin,
rosy wrestler, how we tussled through the night
thew to thew, heel to heel, palm to palm
Dream, how you strove
angel to my Jacob, till
somewhat near to dawn you went missing
drowned in yellow waves of rising day
swept away,
lost in a hank of damp and tangled sheets
rinsed from the skin like sudsed-off sweat
clockwise or anywise, down the drain hissing-
Come back, I'm begging you.

You could, you know. Dreams do.
I hope you will-
though I'm set to bet
never with quite the same vigor
never with quite the same rigor
or even whimsy,
some things not reprisable
I'm sad to say;
maybe that's why I'm loving you.
And, dream, I hope you return
in any terms-
as a ghost of yourself?
as a ghost of a ghost?
dream, you are welcome in my house,
night or day.