In the stillness of a child’s remembered dreams, Crow
is being chased from his tree by two smaller birds
nipping at his tail feathers,
barefoot girl in cotton dress below
watching with toes buried in loose sand.
In this version, Girl fashions a boy
from Georgia red clay, tall and handsome,
black straight hair, a poet voice
that sings for her, anthems in tongues
only her ears can understand.
Boy is strong and breathes into her, holds
her in ways she wishes to be held. The two
of them lie together beneath Crow’s tree,
their thighs gnarl together like twisted willow roots,
each day deeper in the firm earth.
Girl tells her mother who remembers
when once she had the same dream
but does not tell her father
who is a patrician oak, a thick bole.
He has never learned to speak of dreams.