Invisible Dreams

written by


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La poesie vit d’insomnie perpetuelle
—René Char
There’s a sickness in me. During 
the night I wake up & it’s brought

a stain into my mouth, as if
an ocean has risen & left back

a stink on the rocks of my teeth. 
I stink. My mouth is ugly, human

stink. A color like rust
is in me. I can’t get rid of it.

It rises after I
brush my teeth, a taste

like iron. In the
night, left like a dream,

a caustic light
washing over the insides of me.

*

What to do with my arms? They 
coil out of my body

like snakes.
They branch & spit.

I want to shake myself 
until they fall like withered

roots; until
they bend the right way—

until I fit in them, 
or they in me.

I have to lay them down as 
carefully as an old wedding dress,

I have to fold them
like the arms of someone dead.

The house is quiet; all 
night I struggle. All

because of my arms, 
which have no peace!

*

I’m a martyr, a girl who’s been dead 
two thousand years. I turn

on my left side, like one comfortable 
after a long, hard death.

The angels look down
tenderly. “She’s sleeping,” they say

& pass me by. But
all night, I am passing

in & out of my body 
on my naked feet.

*

I’m awake when I’m sleeping & I’m 
sleeping when I’m awake, & no one

knows, not even me, for my eyes 
are closed to myself.

I think I am thinking I see
a man beside me, & he thinks

in his sleep that I’m awake 
writing. I hear a pen scratch

a paper. There is some idea 
I think is clever: I want to

capture myself in a book.

*

I have to make a 
place for my body in

my body. I’m like a 
dog pawing a blanket

on the floor. I have to 
turn & twist myself

like a rag until I
can smell myself in myself.

I’m sweating; the water is 
pouring out of me

like silver. I put my head 
in the crook of my arm

like a brilliant moon.

*

The bones of my left foot 
are too heavy on the bones

of my right. They
lie still for a little while,

sleeping, but soon they 
bruise each other like

angry twins. Then
the bones of my right foot

command the bones of my left 
to climb down.

© Toi Derricotte