November 2011 - Comments Off

Wife Life

Hannah Kucharzak '13

I wake up and relay my dreams to him,
whether or not he sleeps sideways or
longways, with me or not, beds are beds

and dreams are indiscriminate illusions.
I gain sleep tales in handfuls, even awake.
They are a number of things because they can be

but it pains me to create these stories. I feel
as though I am weaving a quilt of fine horse hair or
reading tea leaves from a black mug. But one must

think up stories, one must shift reality into
half-fiction, half-nothing. (Old men do this
masterfully, sitting with their pipes and their

yellow eyeball-whites, a life made of
sidewayses and longwayses with women
who did their dreaming for them.) One must

always change: these are the destructive
images we flash to create behind our globular
eyes, the tornadoes ripping through oceans,

the lordly tsunamis and the deteriorating
New York City wooden houses. I am never
tired but I always sleep, always wake changed.

Hannah is a palindrome.

Published by: in Poetry, Volume 68

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