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ANNIVERSARY
If
in your dream my dream might softly enter
and,
like a cloth of pearl, float through it there,
softly
erupting larval images,
then
you might turn in sleep and clutch my arm.
If
every pearl of my dream then might reach
and
touch one of your own, an impregnation,
wide
bioluminescence on the swell
above
your deep and long-forgetting dark,
this
twined, all-twinning creature of the surface
might
slowly draw the moon, the queen of love,
down
through your deep unconscious memories—
and
you might once more softly cling to me
and
your dream in my dream might slowly waken
and
our two souls again be what they were.
Alan
Marshfield
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