I will tell you what the dead see in dreams

I saw a river and bodies in the river, male, female.
I watched them float downstream.
I watched them pile onto sand at a bend in the river.
In places they were thick and made a bridge.
But no one walked over them.

And darkness without streetlights.
This was a city once.
I know.  I lived here.
I can’t fathom it.
The sun came up
and then the sun
but that can’t be.
Light or the memory of light
After you close your eyes
like someone snatched away the morning.

—————–

I will tell you why the dead turn away from light.

I saw strong men burned and dying of thirst.
I saw women choking on green water, desperate.
There was nothing else to drink.
In a moment, everything turned to poison.
The trees were dense with ruined fruit
and there was no water in the rain.

I saw a bald woman clutching a lifeless child to her breast
trying to feed it sour milk.
And I saw a naked man
standing with his eyeball in his palm

And I could not help him.

————————–

I will tell you what the dead know about love,
what it was like.

Something passed between us
for just a moment, maybe two
something like life
insane
contagious
a moment of grace.
And in his arms
lying awake
all the landmarks swept away
I found myself washed upon the shore
of some undiscovered
alien
world.

It was like that.