The Dream of Water

The Dream of Water

Alone on a boat at night
with no wind. A magnetic field
glows inside each object, and each star
above pulls on my body,
and each fish in the sea turns

to ghost-trail, to concaved white.
The sea is a radiograph.
Then I touch the bones of my face.
They feel like water.
I see you standing on a far continent

and between us stretches
impenetrable darkness,
as if I must die to reach you.
I think the world
must be a hollow longing

filled with more of itself—
but no, darkness is a substance
that bends. I will oil and burn
my hands for light
before I stop searching.

— Sara Eliza Johnson, from Bone Map

This poem is offered as part of our January theme: Dreams

T. S. Poetry

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