Naked Body of Dreams

Poetry by David Deyo

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In the vivid vapors
of a morning's waking dream,
I march unbidden
into that hollow house
that once I knew as home.
Corridors have collected
dusts of memories and moments
lived and lost in its history.
The still, musty air is heavy
with the faces of phantoms,
come to call on my presence.
They laugh and they cry.
Mainly they cry.
I join them in the reunion of tears,
and then awaken,
my own face wet.

About the Poem

One of my favorite people in the world was my maternal grandmother. She died when I was only 12. I've missed her greatly over the years. On occasion, I have dreams in which I'm able to be in her presence again. This poem was written in the moments right after awakening from such a dream.


This poem originally published in Naked Body of Dreams (1985, Talisman Creations).



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