I'm a man of lucid
Nightmares; this time
Lost in a world of snow

With nothing to keep me warm
But the piece of unlikely driftwood
I held on to for its familiarity alone,

Sobbing into it; tears softening its
Brittle texture until it transformed,
Became flesh and skin and pulse,

And whispered, as its twigs moved
Against my chest, my name with
Slight concern; either for me or

Her own lack of sleep.
I kissed her elbow, released her arm
And left the bedroom to watch the

Rain dance on the stage of the
Streetlit pavement outside the window,
And thus celebrate reality, where I can

Sit and listen to something breathe that
Loves me so intensely that my absence
Would be a world of

Snow, without a single piece
Of driftwood to
Cling to.