For the Dead by Adrienne Rich

I dreamed I called you on the telephone
to say: Be kinder to yourself
but you were sick and would not answer

The waste of my love goes on this way
trying to save you from yourself

I have always wondered about the left-over
energy, the way water goes rushing down a hill
long after the rains have stopped

or the fire you want to go to bed from
but cannot leave, burning-down but not burnt-down
the red coals more extreme, more curious
in their flashing and dying
than you wish they were
sitting long after midnight



I've been having the strangest dreams. Yesterday I dreamt of a funny bald merman with a round belly. He wanted so much to get out of the water and see the sun, but each time he tried to swim upwards he would be ruthlessly dragged down and thrown onto the seabed by an invisible force. Each time this happened I would giggle and clap my hands like a child. He tried for one last time and just as his face was about to break the surface of the water I yelled, "Wait!" He looked at me, shocked, and was instantly dragged back down. I woke up feeling very sad. Even though I didn't complete the dream, I knew instinctively that he had died in that final attempt. I don't know why I stopped him.