1.

Dreams lie at angles to the sun

The sweat is real, the possible worlds

Are not to some. Diviners have read

Their entrails. Freud

Crafted their guidebook, conjured them

On a hot summer’s evening. Dreams

Embarrassing, enthralling, are

Our third selves

A third of ourselves: dreams

Deny, defy. The bog they pulled you from

Where you had plunged into the peat

Unconscious, thousands of years before

Pieced you together, mud and sand,

As evidence

A dark wound from the sun.