Pulling the Needle Poem by Judith Skillman

Out of my finger in dream
holding the head in my right hand
feeling the pain the shaft
beneath layers it hurts to bend
the argument remains in the finger
as well as those helpless to attend
blood comes passers-by dismissed
in passive witnessing the finger phallic
the needle a symbol
meant to be felt in sleep
where the deities meet to exorcise
with the genius of machines
what the unconscious guards with moats
bridges and barbed wire there I meet the other
the one who twins me
in daytime when an orange sun
drops through the marine layer
of marbled clouds into the sea