You woke me in my dreams this morning 

you and your dog her warmth behind me, clamouring your broad palm on my forehead hardened hands that work my face as disarrayed as sheets, probably for I was dreaming of this exact moment it had actually occurred and had also not: the paradox of the perforated memory of a time when you did wake me that time, the dog and I, we kept sleeping the dream and the recollection of the dream lucid 

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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