how shall i welcome
you, into my dream?

like a begging bowl
to catch a metaphor
for only one thing.

like a glass heart, black
and white and bruising,
thirsty for ambrosia —

blocked by traffic.
under siege,
fleeing the tsunami.

waiting for rainbows,
parched grass bristling
with gasoline.

demanding miracles,
absent the wonder. numb
to their own tragedy.

so dreadfully the dawn
summons Iris
to quaking Trojans.

//