Oneironaut by Nicholas Viglietti

At night, I loose a hundred 

million broken stars;

in the dark, their lights 

scatter across my dreams.

They sketch your face, your lips, 

your hands, your throat, your tongue

to build a likeness I can

feel with no straight lines.

I smear the coffee grounds 

around to tell your future.

I see an arrow drawn across

a centaur’s shoulder,

then pour my coffee through 

the petals of a flower,

and dream your body well, 

again, and full of healing.

I smell your lavender

perfume upon my pillow,

an echo shimmering

like starlight in my nostrils.

Will you return to me and 

wash me in bloodwater,

wake me up, and place 

my hands upon your body? 

One day, not far from now,

I’ll wake and find you dreaming.

I’ll close my eyes and let 

your oceans wash me clean.