Gedicht
Gabeba Baderoon
The Dream in the Next Body
The Dream in the Next Body
The Dream in the Next Body
From the end of the bed, I pullthe sheets back into place.
An old man paints a large sun striped
by clouds of seven blues.
Across the yellow centre each
blue is precisely itself and yet,
at the point it meets another,
the eye cannot detect a change.
The air shifts, he says,
and the colours.
When you touched me in a dream,
your skin an hour ago did not end
where it joined mine. My body continued
the movement of yours. Something flowed
between us like birds in a flock.
In a solitude larger than our two bodies
the hardening light parted us again
But under the covering the impress
of our bodies is a single, warm hollow.
© 2004, Gabeba Baderoon
From: Illuminations: An International Magazine of Contemporary Writing
Publisher: Rathasker Press, Charleston
From: Illuminations: An International Magazine of Contemporary Writing
Publisher: Rathasker Press, Charleston
Gedichten
Gedichten van Gabeba Baderoon
Close
The Dream in the Next Body
From the end of the bed, I pullthe sheets back into place.
An old man paints a large sun striped
by clouds of seven blues.
Across the yellow centre each
blue is precisely itself and yet,
at the point it meets another,
the eye cannot detect a change.
The air shifts, he says,
and the colours.
When you touched me in a dream,
your skin an hour ago did not end
where it joined mine. My body continued
the movement of yours. Something flowed
between us like birds in a flock.
In a solitude larger than our two bodies
the hardening light parted us again
But under the covering the impress
of our bodies is a single, warm hollow.
From: Illuminations: An International Magazine of Contemporary Writing
The Dream in the Next Body
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