PAD 4

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Sheet,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write the poem. Possible titles might include: “Rap Sheet,” “Blank Sheet,” “How to Fold a Sheet,” “I Look Like a Ghost Beneath This Holey Sheet,” etc. Feel free–as always–to bend and break the prompt to your will. The poeming is what matters.



Warm Sheets

For four nights now I have dreamt of loving
of being fully, truly loved.

In the first, he had made a new world for himself,
had moved and now occupied the full bend in the river.
His grounds were peopled with friends and it wasn't odd
that he had a temple there by the water
and was in a ritual of himself, of his living.
He was beautiful, golden in effect.
Alive and clear.
And he loved
me
and I had to believe it
because he came to me
and declared to me
love.
He was exactly him 
and he said, looking right at me
and meaning it,
"It's you."

On the next night
in a busy market or alley
or corridor of a kind.  A blousy woman
selling antiques
noticed my ring.
"Yes.  I am married," I announced. "To him."
I said his name.
And the him was different from the one in the first dream.
He was there.  He turned to see me, astonished at what I said.
As was I.
Though we both have always known.

The third night there was a woman - who?
I've lost it - only a scent of hair remains - but the warm sheets
held me close and gently
and it was sweet
And that she and this she and 
the sheets, warm, were indistinguishable
feminine, caring, kind and lucky,
together, together and near.

And now I try to recall
last nights' dream

I remember love, loving
a vagueness of loving

I was setting up a new studio.
I was building a new table.
The dream was populated with partiers
some orgy with a golden egg caught on film
- so many people I knew

and one who understood me
who was busy but near
who cleared the room for me
who built a table for me
who kissed me on the back of my neck
and shone a light on the blank wall before me
and on its canvas
and it was clear what he meant when he told me, 
"This is love, my love.  It always will be."