The River Of Dreams From Grade School On

the river of dreams the story goes

whose river I wonder will it have my clouds from home reflected in it

getting in a dreamy state of mind

rather like Alice I think

though my blue dress doesn't fit anymore

the pale blue the violet sprigged

the river of dreams.

in life I feel too overwhelmed by rivers

though I admire them murky green glass green

blending the recollections of trees with river bottom mud

if I stay too long I sense floods I sense floods of

historical proportions and that I have brought them on

by staying too long

and not beneficence and I am too small for floods.

but the river in books I understand

the river of dreams there

Mark Twain, for instance

The Wind In the Willows

and rivers and terrain as mapped

in schoolbooks with the mountains shown in relief.

it is relief to me that I am not really there

I think to myself at the desk that smells like peanut butter

lost in the mountains with a map key not to scale

stuck in the river's current on a raft and the raft pole drifting away with the day and the day and the day

I prefer the river of dreams watercolours streaming together

after the monsoons of the mind oh indigo

all moods that were in my mood ring once upon a time

the river

that is clouded oh my dreams submerged in opals

the river at dawn

where you can wake

after denouncing the Red Queen

and be safe on the waking shore from rose red retaliations.

and the pursuing soldiers, the whole deck..

mary angela douglas 30 july 2020

1Mary Angela Douglas