The mother and daughter

appeared in the dream

as two harbors. Both

were aflame, at a door.

The son and brother

who dreamed them told them

to step back, they must

be mistaken. And then

within the dream he recalled

wondering how fire could ever

be mistaken.

But he had time to only

wonder for a moment.

For a storm had disguised

itself as a giant bird.

This giant bird ate children,

and could reach as high

as the sun and the moon.

The giant bird pecked at both.

And then sad cabbages

floated in the harbor,

on their way to sea.

Power is bankrupt, but has

devastating consequences.

Like glass one has to wear

as a stocking.

To break us.

To create gloom.

To make death reasonable.

To have a voice which will

utter a new direction.

Have you eaten yet today,

my people?

Yes. We have been nourished

by your sad cabbages of death.

Perhaps the woman from our youth,

the stranger who appeared now and then

to help, told us she had “a cabbage head”

not to explain her scars on her neck,

but to quietly and ever so indirectly

inform us something of what was and what

would come.

This stranger was helpful, and now

it does seem like a useful piece of information.