Just inside of sleep
still conscious of the sheets, snow
falling and moonlight.
A stranger crosses
my grandmother’s shaded lawn
fifty years ago.
This is the alchemy.
revelation. Eyes open
in the dark. My love
breathing beside me. Chill breeze
from the cracked open window.
The past is leaving me now
because I am too small to contain it.
I argue that I’ve grown too deep,
that it sinks into my yellow brown light
like a shipwreck; like a stone.