What to Expect on Return

WHAT TO EXPECT ON RETURN

You will meet a top sheet between 

you, thick as any temple veil, 

on descending from the dream. 

She will roll over as you try to tell 

her how neatly it's all stitched together: 

how logical, really—if only

she had been there!—

the sudden shifts in the story,

how cohesive, even linear 

the narrative proves itself 

when seen from the inner chamber!

You will recieve a brief “hmhm,” a sniff.

It wasn’t as if you knew 

then either, you’ll explain, but more 

that you didn’t need to know, 

were carried by something more 

than knowing. Even the sudden 

disappearance of characters,

the others who appeared unbidden

on the scene, didn’t alter 

the understanding that all 

of it was going somewhere, 

hurtling toward something good. All 

this you will tell her before

the sense begins to drip

from the cracks in the cupped hands

of your mind. Morning sunlight will slip 

through the bedroom blinds.   

Most likely then you will apologize.  

Something like, “I sounded crazy

I bet. At the time it made so much sense."

Sadly, she will accept the apology.