I had a dream I left the other side
of myself in New York City,
I have to go back to get it
but I can’t move. I wonder
if I shut the windows, left flowers
to wilt, left food to decay, left my
heart on the Queensboro Bridge.
I feel my mind blow open.
I run to the Tiber, chasing chaos
the way a heart does after its broken,
seeing my favorite song sinking
the way the dying does for days.
I don’t know what it all means.
Maybe that’s how the world walks into us,
with worry. Or maybe that’s how it goes,
like a boat coming from the future
to take us away.

Does the heart grieve on,
After its grief is gone
Like a slow ship moving
Across its own oblivion?

Heart! Heart! Do you not know
That I have conquered pain,
Have parted from my woe?
That my proud feet have found their path again,
After the pathless heights-long after-
And that my hands have learned to bless
Their overflowing emptiness,
My lips grown reconciled to laughter?

O laggard of dead roads,
O heart that will not heal nor break
Nor yet forget!
Tell me, whose tears are these
That greet me as I wake?
Why is my pillow wet?

Red rebel, is it you
That lifted this wild dew
Like banners from my arid dreams,
That roused this ember
From exiled ashes,
Calling me to remember?

Speak, is it you that wept
Upon my pillow while I slept?

Does the heart then grieve on,
After its grief is gone,
A treasure ship that journeys
Across its own oblivion?