Dream Slowly Home

Today I am dreaming 

but slowly home,

my pillow so flat 

and my blanket so worn.

I feel the cold

that can be

that has been

and I shiver so

even as days grow 

warm

and there is rain--

I wait for the snow.

Not long ago dreams swooped down.

Oh, it was Mardi Gras! 

Feathered Fat dancers

shook confetti over me,

all over the sheets.

I fast, 

but my dreams are slow.

These are the Lenten days,

the weeks of thin soup,

the feast of tight belts and

slow, trodding dreams: 

all painted black and white.

"Come on home!"  

My old dreams call,

but I forget and

I am forgetting

how to sleep

how I slept

and dreams...

these dreams!

The going home

is so slow.