Theater of Dreams
Let objects stand for people. Talk only to possessions,
not those who possess you.
– Instructions for a Jungian exercise
The dream begins in her childhood, deep
in the basement of the house. Now we each take a role.
It’s the objects that speak in this drama from sleep:
one person plays the cement floor, another the heap
of clutter that stands for her father—mostly old tools.
The dream begins in her childhood, deep
in her father’s arms. She remembers the shrugged-off hope
in his shoulders, his body stiff as his levels and rules.
It’s the objects that speak. In this drama from sleep
the floor says I’m turning to marble when she weeps.
The thrown shoe, the shouting, the strap hung on a nail—
the dream begins in her childhood. Deep
enough now, says the floor, I’m shining with grief.
She hugs herself, sensing her bones like braille.
It’s the objects that speak in this drama. From sleep
you spin a thousand selves, says the clutter, to keep
the promises he broke. Now unwind the spool
of dreams. Begin in childhood, deep
in the objects that speak in this drama. From sleep.