It occured to me,
one recent frozen morning,
that when I wake
with a song
I have not heard in years
stuck
in my head—
trilling off my tongue
vibrating through my hum—
that it is coming from
somewhere.
Have I been singing it
in my dreams?
Maybe dancing
around
my neuro-constructed living room
or my revenant-filled cocktail-buoyed backyard,
old bones worrying while
singing and dancing
spirits with spirits
working out
long forgotten
concerns?
Maybe twirling
out
dervishing my soul about
the light-aired spaces
that I fill in the dark night
as I lie between
cotton phyllo
waiting for the
morning?
Did I just live a wild dance
that
I can no longer
remember?
A caper lost, a song retained?
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