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The Dream

In the dream,
I wanted to map your back:
the slight waist,
the square shoulders,
every mole on that expanse
of pale cream skin.

You sat facing away
from the swimming pool.
I smiled as I slipped
into the smooth blue water.
Then the water was brown,
thick with grit
that scraped at me
and I couldn't move
and panic was sand
filling my throat
and you wouldn't turn around.

Now you suck at my nipple.
It stings like a baby teething.
You move to nuzzle my neck.
I feel the day's growth
of beard on your face.
I push you away.
Your eyes seem wild,
your mouth is a split plum
floating in the gritty
water of your face.

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