From the archives — “Upon Waking to Find a Sparrow Loose in My Room” by J. Brian Long

“Upon Waking to Find a Sparrow Loose in My Room”

I dreamed again the ghost of you.
I dreamed again the folds and the heat
of you sudden in my sleep, I dreamed you wet

against the salt of my want. This is a thing a dream,
a muse, becomes: a flutter whispering about
the dust of the drape, a shadow tangling

must webs in high, hard corners,
the flit, the rasp, of wings tattering
against the pane, against the false, baring light.

I pen you to the sheets, your song
against the dark of my palm; this
is a thing a dream, a poem becomes.

by J. Brian Long

from Autumn Sky Poetry, Number 1, June 2006

photo by Christine Klocek-Lim