Grass Stems Dream


In my dream
You’d come to visit
I don’t know why
There was no reason: it was a dream.
You kept seeing things in me
That I deny
That I lose
That I gave away to a car boot sale years ago, I thought.
Beautiful, you saw them
And detailed my failure
Each speck of dust
A galaxy of disappointment
Unworthy of you.
I’ve tried so hard to keep our dream house clean
But you found the dirt
Bin bags appeared that I know weren’t there
Bile sweated from worktops I know were clean.
In a forgotten medicine tub
Some grass had germinated and sprouted
This disgusted you more than anything
I held the tiny stems in my hands:
“Look! Look how pretty they are!”
I wanted you to see:
Their green sheen, bursting with hope
Their infant eyes seeking lovelight
But the girl you used to be
Who treasured every living thing
Who brought me nature in her careful hands
Who made it live and laugh and love
Was gone
Is gone.
Dreams, eh? Funny, aren’t they?
And you know the funniest thing?
My nightmare starts when I wake up.