I woke with the dawn,

the taste of some dream

still thick on my morning tongue.

⠀

It was about you.

It was about the scalpel of Loss

and the bandage of Time,

but neither one felt right.

⠀

I was alone then, but the dream

was not about loneliness.

⠀

I tried to wrap my calloused hands

around Regret, and came away bleeding.

Every drop became a seed,

and every one grew into a lemon tree.

⠀

I already had more salt and sorrow

in my belly than the Dead Sea,

but in the dream that didn’t bother me.

⠀

I was more disturbed by how vibrant green

and alive the waxy leaves seemed to be,

how sunshine yellow the rinds glistened

like promises, like tomorrows.