Dream 4 — Cabin Pin (2012)

there was a cabin in the woods
on the side of a shrapnel hill freckled with snow.
we sat at a table.
you had a bitter face on,
left the room then
i looked down for
o  n  e  s  e  c  o  n  e  d ,
and
you walked in and
you were smiling.
your smile reminded me
of how big your mouth is     how
one-hundred-thousand years ago
when I was still awake,
you were smiling at me
now you just smiled at a plate
in those hands.
it was a china plate
with an assortment
of pins and coins
that reminded me of the bird's bones thrown
to the ashy red dirt back when I was awake
and eight, staring down a witch doctor in africa.
they were magic
you took one —a dime
popped it in your mouth
smiled.
one time some years after my trip to africa
when we were awake one hundred thousand years ago,
you smiled so big you
swallowed me up
and I stayed stranded
in the pit of your belly for
t h r e e w h o l e d a y s
before resurfacing.
i saw laughter form in the hollow of your lower ribs
and watched it spiral until it broke loose:
noisy out the mouth,
flinging your hands to a clap before
it settled in your crow's feet.
i took a pin
from the china plate
i put it on my tongue
and then
a fire came that took everything promptly left
and left us    stranded;
shrapnel on the hill.
but i felt no remorse as the flames receded
because I heard your laugh one-hundred-thousand years A.D.
it was echoey and dull but unmistakably the same,
burning in the crackles of a moving flame.