A Small Dream

It was only a small dream of the Golden World,

now you trot off to bed. I’ll turn the machine off,

you’ve danced & trickt us enough.

Unintelligible whines & imprecations, hurled

from the second floor, fail to impress your mother

and I am the only other

and I say go to bed! We’ll meet tomorrow,

acres of threats dissolve into a smile,

you’ll be the Little Baby

again, while I pursue my path of sorrow

& bodies, bodies, to be carried a mile

& dropt. Maybe

if frozen slush will represent the soul

which is to represented in the hereafter

I ask for a decree

dooming my bitter enemies to laughter

advanced against them. If the dream was small

it was my dream also, Henry’s.