In my dream the old woman had a ribbon for the boy

and the ribbon had a message.  What to make

of this.  That the woman I dreamed of had a penis

on her knee she could find no one to hold.

That the man who is central plays guitar

and all he wants is to be loved.

I seemed to be that man whose death is his security,

whose stony head will model stony crown.

Who turns away predators with assiduity

dips his head to swallow wide

reflections in the body.

The brain’s a map that’s flat.

Don’t expect to feel the incision.

Nerves don’t end there.