Falling Dreams

Sometimes I dream that you are a word
spoken into the tunnel of my ear,
traveling the labyrinth of my body
until I can speak you back, on my tongue.

Or writ large enough for me to enter,
house of many rooms,
landscape stretching to endless variations.

Or in disguise,
king traveling among his subjects.
If you were to knock on my door,
would you think I would not open?

{"Falling Dreams" originally appeared in Philadelphia Poets, Vol. 11, #1, April 2005, and is the final poem in the chapbook Falling Dreams, Finishing Line Press, 2006}