Nancy Devine

Dreaming

Sometimes I conjure up merely water prodding a lake’s lone dock, a foot dangling in, propagating rings of wet motion, the opposite shore so distant it is never. Not even a boat would get you there, which makes all this wish so much more awful.

Or back off sleep, let my body enjoy this floating above my bed. Let me swim the air of my bedroom, the waves of my parents’ voices rising catching my breath. The world can baptize you upside down if you let it. Teach you rhythmic breathing, to depend on the meter of inhale and ex…