you pass
from the dream
to tell me
you hold

a kettle.  your robe

is open.  the tips

of my fingers
touch

the bottoms
of teacups.  our bread

will be
this morning
the color

of firewood.  I will begin

but give up
peeling

an orange.  the orange

won’t matter.  if a man is angry

he is not awake.  if a man

sleeps, he will give
then call it

taken.  I miss marrying you.