Deborah Edler Brown

He comes to her in dreams

 

Sometimes he comes as a foot

strong, high arched, well placed on the ground.

Toward her, away from her, doesn’t matter.

The foot is on her path.

 

Sometimes he is a heron.

She doesn’t know what a heron looks like,

how she knows he is one, but there it is:

a rustle of wings, feathers across her face, flight.

 

Once he was a mountain.

The long trek up his slope left her faint,

breathless, but the connection  – her feet,

his back – was home.

 

He comes to her in dreams.

No flash of recognition. No

there he is, the foot, the heron, the mountain again

She almost doesn’t realize.

She thinks she does not dream him.

 

But it is there – the subtle yes

the path, the wing, the climb

She knows him.

He lingers in first light

and she knows.

 

 

Mail Call

 

I am sending you this postcard as a promise.

I will send my face one day soon to follow.

I will come to you in parts.

 

First my face.

Then my mind.

My laughter will come alone.

 

Then my anger.

 

If you accept it – coming certified, you must sign.

If you accept it, I will send my sorrow, my smile, and

sweet kisses, one a week, three weeks running.

 

One morning, it will be a long leg

to wear like a belt -- or a holster -- in your dreams.

One day arms, a pair, to wrap like blankets.

 

Sit quietly for the last.

 

It will not come First Class.

It will not come by mail at all. It will come

on foot, walking from here to there.

 

Spirits travel slowly. The sound barrier

shatters them. High altitudes untune them,

like fine guitars.

 

One day, when the mail is assembled,

you will awaken, and I will be there,

cross-legged on your bed, rearranging

 

postcards on your chest. 

All you have to do is say

Good morning.

 

 

 

Still here falling

 

Fall here by me

   onto the still wet grass

      Let your body sink

         into the lap of earth

            Put your head in mine

 

Lay very still here

   Fall into easy sleep

      knowing I won't let you

         fall any further      knowing I

            will still be here when you awake 

 

Still as you fall here

   be still and hold my hand

      so I don't fall from this safety

         (this safety of your head in my lap)

            between the time your eyes shut and open again

 

Kiss me    here

   before you fall asleep

      and here    and I will fall gently

         into a breath that matches yours

                 and still will fall

               as you lie here in slumber

                       on the still wet grass 

 

Something here in these words

   lets me fall  pulls me down

      still deeper into thoughts

              like ripples falling    here

                 into the quiet wishing part of me

 

that falls in love with you

   when you are here with me

      (still for a moment)

         and still falls for you

            as you fall away from me

 

 

In this dream of falling words

   (words falling still)    I dream

      of still moments on the still wet grass

         when your head might fall    gently

            into my lap     and my heart might fall

 

safely    into your still warm hands

   and we might be here

      together        still

         still falling together

            and falling into each other

 

safely