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the dream I can’t remember

it’s 3 a.m. I wake up from a dream I don’t remember painfully not remembering was it you? I miss you I feel that

were you there in the dream I can’t remember I try to reach back into the dream it’s like fog thick as a stone wall perfection this dream I want to go back in to to find you in perfection I can no longer have

I can’t remember but I remember you each of you

it’s like yesterday when I first knew you were gone and only living here inside

will I find you when I’m gone too? or will you have moved on from there too?

or will my death be like the dream I can’t remember only a thick fog roiling there like a massive stone wall of blankness?

loss loss loss loss I wonder how I can still breathe when you can’t

it would be better if you were here and I wasn’t you take this harder job of living for awhile

my heart aches I press my hand down on it it recognizes me and calms but it still goes on aching and it goes on beating my faithful faithful heart

for now

from Steve — poems from a friend — Bill Eberle

Thomaston     March 19, 3–4 a.m.

Last night I learned my mother in her late 90s has fallen and broken her pelvis. Now I wonder: is she still alive? I’ll know tomorrow.

© 2019, Bill Eberle