IN YOUR DREAMS

In your dreams animals speak to you,

sometimes wisdom

sometimes gibberish.

In my dreams I read memos.

I lie down for rest

but find none.

In your dreams your best friend shoots arrows

at the moon but the arrows fall short

to land in moon-drenched corn.

Or you find a blue dog with tags.

He is lost but still wears his directions home.

Oh, and he has a pistol strapped upon his back.

You tell the dictator he is a liar

and a hundred nuns come forth

chanting in solidarity with you.

But you die too often for my tastes.

I would tire of that symbology

yet you find new ways to live on in your dreams.

Barry Harris is editor of the Tipton Poetry Journal and has published one poetry collection, Something at the Center. His poetry has appeared in various journals, including Grey Sparrow, Silk Road Review, Saint Ann‘s Review, Kentucky Review, Boston Literary Magazine, Night Train, Cherry Blossom Review, Flying Island, Lily, Houston Literary Review, Snow Monkey, and Writers‘ Bloc.