Dream dictation

No one said you couldn’t bite into a whole
peeled onion. What was an apple? Something

that used to be sold only in the black
market, its red waxy dress wrapped

in creased shawls, newsprint with Chinese
characters. No one ever said unkind words

about creamy cloves of garlic: so large
they came unhusked with one pinch. What

was the last clear thought that shimmered
in your mind before you fell asleep? It melted

too quickly, translucent thread of sugar returned
to the pot. In the morning, cup after cup of strong

black coffee still could not bring it back—
dark fishtail disappearing down the throat.

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