A Moveable Garden

Part of my Feb 2024 Dream Poems project.

Amniotic

Dreaming is like being underwater. 
It’s not your native environment 
but of course it is, it’s your very element, 
the swish with which you toss and turn. 
You hold your breath, you use your gills, 
you feel the watery swap, 
rhythmic on your salty skin. 
There’s a pressure holding you, like gravity 
but wet, and it spins you around. 
You close your eyes and see what’s there: 
the amniotic whirl
blending everything you’ve known since birth,
since before birth, and in that darkness 
what’s been drowned, 
what’s been held under, 
reemerges, reassembled like a child’s platypus; 
and when you see it you’re baffled, 
you wonder who could have created such a thing, 
and fluid drips from your webbed hands, 
your fur gleams. 

©M Wms 2024