Written by
Ron Henry

Ron Henry lives in Ithaca, NY, and works in communications at Cornell University. Over the years he has been a book seller, an environmental activist, a library book cataloger, and a technical writer. His poetry has appeared in Poethia, rife, readme, Pig Iron, Hiram Poetry Review, and many other publications. From 1997 to 2006, he edited the online poetry journal Aught, back issues of which can still be read at www.aughtpoetry.com.

Dream, of Dream

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Any gain she and I derived
unspeaking those dim miles,
middle-of-nowhere highway dreamtime,

was like to breathe cloud, to drink
seas of mist. She sewed a dress
prettiest blue with pinkish flowers,

I remember well broken
pieces of rainbow called
sundogs, I saw them and I

just pointed through the windshield.
She (you) nodded, said nothing.
(Again the she was you.)

No oasis out here. Or I dream
there is no oasis. I dream
rest areas forbidden, dream I drive us

past stained and shattered barrels
that collect travellers’ trash when
no one is around, where do

they come from. where do they go,
to the ache in my belly
lasting long as the drive

that pushed a straight stitch through
the hills and back to the bed
where someday we may awaken

“Ek Pankha Tha, Ek Takiya Tha, Diptych” by Azanat Mansoor Butt. 2018. Digital Photograph. 23 x 16.5 & 16.5 x 11.5 inches.

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• A BIANNUAL LITERARY MAGAZINE BROUGHT TO YOU BY DESI WRITERS' LOUNGE •

Volume 20

Nomad - Fall 2018

Verse

Dream, of Dream