I think of the seal she used to smirk of before his name,
he lay distant from the presence of her layered body,
solemn with a face depicted keenly from the outlines of the familiar.
It was frequent and deserved for her to control the setting,
the ice meant to cuddle an overheated mind
peace of mind swimming only in sleep.
I listened to the dream again and wanted the end to be different.
For her to save him just once because I knew him as someone else on the ice
a balanced man, steady, dignified,
the pedestal above a child’s expectations
but for nights, I trusted her to know the truth,
I had seen the other women waiting (as I do now)
for the nights to live dreams and create settings behind closed doors
create men as different animals.
So at the end of the dreams, where they were seals, it was always the same
a male too heavy, too clumsy to sustain life on thin ice
so he drowns each time
slips, my stomach heavy, unable to catch his body for the sake of her mind.
(written in honor of my grandmother who loved water, cold temperatures and the craziness of her own mind)