in my dreams, i canβt stop talking about Antigone
inform strangers about her radical justice
ask everyone i pass how they would define outside
[crickets]
my dreams have become obvious
i was offered a tenure-track job for $15,000
to sweeten the deal, they threw in two ahi steaks
[i said yes]
my dream-self tells also my dream-self
to get out of my own way
sure, i am writing this poem now
[but another poem is forming alongside it]
do we ask too much of our dreams?
maybe they don’t ask enough of us
gifts are such messy things
[if you hold them right]
sometimes i invent recipes
dates rubbed with olive oil and sea salt
my mentor whispered this to me
[i was so certain it was a memory]
my department chair called for a pasta challenge
all the doctoral students would prepare for her a pasta
and she would choose the best among us
[i’ll never prove myself]
as I passed her in the hall which was plush and singing
she leaned in to say
erin, I’m really not looking forward to your pasta
[that tracks]
as soon as i finish my grant proposal it bursts
into a screeching cloud of feathers
have you ever seen so much green?
[i know ur thinking abt Lorca]
don’t look now
a republican is yelling at me
his face a glittering gyroscope
[how did he get in here?]