Mabel's Dream

My love
I dreamt of you last night
a rare gift
you came to stay at my house
that was not my house
in the spare room for a month
you had doubts about the narrow bed
wedged in an eave against the wall
I assured you that grandmother had slept there
and it had been fine for her
the room is large and light, the sun is out
and on a low soft bed that fills the center of the room
we lie down together, and stretched full length
pretend to merely rest, chat about your stay
perhaps I'll come visit you at night, I say
and with that we turn to each other
limbs long, attenuated, and begin to kiss
our first time ever, lips lightly touching lips
the door is ajar and in the hall
an occasional faceless figure swirls past as we lie
oh your lips, your body, your involuntary groan --
a figure flickers soundlessly in, and in an instant withdraws
we freeze – hold our breath - have we been caught?
there'll be a tumult in a moment, invasion, noise
but there isn't - in the hall a clock distantly ticks
somehow we haven't been observed
or if observed, ignored, granted tacit reprieve
to return to our task, surged and suffused,
but I know we're pressing our luck so I say - wait
and get up from the bed to shut the door
feel the latch strike, give the lock a turn
and lie back down amid pale billowing sheets
in your arms on the floating bed in the center of the room
unpent to freely express our probative swoopings
in grace and earnest, no time to lose
I wriggle out of my blouse and on the roiling, rolling bed
lose my balance, and say, help me with my top
Venus de Milo astride, breasts exposed til the moment
you have seized me with your mouth and I moan
in my underlinens wondering how I'll ever get them off
in the swells of the bounding, weltering sea
and then the dream spools and tatters to a sudden end
catapaulting me from the mild spring air of a sunny room
onto the chill solitary raft of night
where I’m on my side of the bed
under heavy covers, hours before birdsong, before light
I lie in darkness
and go over the fragment, savor the tangible dream
grateful for its involuntary nature how
for the briefest moment I didn’t have to strain to make you appear
you flew on your own to meet me
on a mild spring morning in a house not my own
where strangers or family let us be
we got lost in one another, fused, stroked, and kissed
Austin - did you too, last night, dream of me?