The Finding
To be alert
hurts the muscles of the eyes,
lids and temples weary
from watching, always holding up
the heavy hand resting
on the watcher’s head.
In dreams vigilance pinches
strangely, the arm prodding
a candle in the dark cave
of the lover’s mouth;
small of the back
as the dream’s belly sprouts
with a grandmother’s eye.
Look for the bakery
at the corner, then turn
left, and it’s a blue house.
Look for me by the gate,
I’ll have your ticket.
Help me look for my shoe,
[....]