A Night Dreaming in Iceland

A Night Dreaming in Iceland

A Poem by Marie Anzalone

I left my body last night,

to step into that dream,

with you. Hot springs, auroras.

The arctic wind that played

the stones

like a musical instrument;

the Great Bear crystallized

in the sky, the North Star

close enough to pluck

and drink from.

 

I was there. You were there.

We were called to appear

before the ones

who live outside of time,

bending human progress

into a Mobius Loop.

 

We spent the time, awake,

listening to stones,

drinking a wine pressed

from distilled beauty.

 

I was left wondering,

what if this was the only

chance I ever get

to spend a night

with you? What details

did I get wrong?

 

Do you sleep on your back,

or your side?

Are you as generous

with blankets

as the stars are

with their brilliance?

Do you hold your lover close,

or leave her a proper distance

apart?

 

Does your heart beat in time

to underground lava flows?

Do you talk in your sleep?

Would the differential

between a volcanic spring

and polar air, in the cover

of darkness,

push you to define, finally,

what you feel

for this fellow ice traveler?

 

The wise ones whispered

in your ear,

but I have no idea,

what they told you.

 


© 2017 Marie Anzalone



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Featured Review

'We spent the time, awake, ~~ listening to stones,
drinking a wine pressed ~~ from distilled beauty.'

You have amazing skills, R.! Readers are taken into another world by language, by your dexterity... from the known world to one filled with glorious phrases, blissful emotions. The questions asked tho whispered-to-the-heart personal, invite the onlooker to think, to be.. to .. wonder at.

Have read so many of your posts over the years but think this might be the best, one of the best.. up there somewhere with the magic!!!

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

'We spent the time, awake, ~~ listening to stones,
drinking a wine pressed ~~ from distilled beauty.'

You have amazing skills, R.! Readers are taken into another world by language, by your dexterity... from the known world to one filled with glorious phrases, blissful emotions. The questions asked tho whispered-to-the-heart personal, invite the onlooker to think, to be.. to .. wonder at.

Have read so many of your posts over the years but think this might be the best, one of the best.. up there somewhere with the magic!!!

Posted 3 Weeks Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Added on November 16, 2017
Last Updated on November 16, 2017

Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xela, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual poet, essayist, novelist, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, .. more..

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