I had a dream the bananas in our garden were ripe.
You: shiny eyed, ragged nailed in the dirt.

I dreamt of you-
Licking the honey that ran off my chin, slip sliding down neck, pooling in collarbone.

I dreamt you called me your honey;
the hum of worker bees woke me up.

I can't remember if it was a dream-
the day you would bruise the bananas in your fist,
saying it was a bad year to grow.