Isabella Blow’s Dream

Dream me.
I am neither asleep nor awake.
I am in parenthesis.
   With love and remembrance,
I am your heated vision.
This sense beyond the furthest limit
      A new language –
 The stuff
   Waking sleep is made of.
It makes no movement.
An unsaid moment.
Did you call me?
There is laughter in your calling.
The refrain though is mine remembered.
      Notes capturing a shadowless beauty
Beside a shaded meadow,
      Around the blunder/break of sleeping.
Now only the sleep/lightning
   Has my echo.
What can be said? Look around.
I am alive and you must remember.
Although I stumble,
   Listen –
I hear the music of the water
   And dream for it to take me.
Where is this place?
   It is between each birth
     In a timeless tense
Injecting each repeated second.
     Told in whispers before you wake.
   Neither here nor there
     But in reflection.
Waking, no mirror, nothing –

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