Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

I dreamt of the dreamer-son
much-loved
long-awaited
wrapped in a chromatic cloak of words,
envisioning spirits ascending and descending
the ephemeral ladder,
connecting earthly striving
and eternal longings.

He spoke in hieroglyphs and logographs
laughed in cotton candy
smiled in crimson and tangerine
whispered in periwinkle
kneaded my flesh until it faded
mulberry to dappled rose
held me tight through Prussian and charcoal hours
until daylight streamed flaxen and honey,
gentling us awake.

I opened my eyes. The nocturnal visitor had gone.

Around me, lilting ancient Aramaic
forming lullabies and family stories,
marketplace bartering,
mothers’ chatter preparing meals.

I never heard his language again.

Tonight as others search the skies
for the Perseids’ glowing gaseous tails
I listen for him,
wait,
sepia and umber
quiet as shadow
the night of our dream fading to
abalone.