Here is a revised poem about sleeping and the chance to dream. I was not happy with the end of the last version. The final line, I realised, I had used once before, many years ago. I did not feel comfortable recycling myself.
Also the Secret Poets suggested removing the numbers that demarcated each section. In truth as soon as I read it aloud I realised the numbers had to go. Thank you Secrets.
the night in five segments
or people endlessly morphing
projected on the cave wall of my skull
always I wonder if I’ve seen them before
weigh their significance
fall into the black
but for not as long
as you might expect
just one hour or two
hydrangeas flood the house with the smell of winter
the night is still
so I don’t look at my hands
though there is something I must do
this buzzing internal puzzle
I walk through that door and
am under the ocean
awake at three or four
this house a dreamscape
the floor boards in the bathroom
wooden warm smooth
the tree dances in the street light
this final waking
in the winter’s miserly light
the rich day waits
at the kitchen tableI think it works now.
Anna Ternheim has been releasing acoustic versions of songs from her last album recently. Here's When You Were Mine.