In answer

Lying alseep walking
last night I met him who seemed pleased to see me.
He wanted to speak. I saw
his mouth move
but the dream clipped its lips and leaned in drunker.

We were deep in woods with a girl like a woolf
who crouched on haunches
and snapped black sticks.
I smelt the sap and the notches.
It seemed I was sitting
in a big brown box and he pushed me
along to make a pathway through the trees.

I turned to watch the moon
dub nodding on its thumbs
conjunctivi threatening to seal
its only eye.
The dark stuff says he don't know me
and that my feet are maps.

He was the same as my face
with his good eye brows on
and a notebook saying, 'we'll write some poems'.

He says his freckles hurt him
when he sealed the box lid,
and he starting back
knew I wanted to see.