Now I lay me down weary of reading indecipherable
maps
weighed down with amulets and timepieces I
lay me down
on cool white sheets on a pillow with a key
of gold I lay me down
to open the doors where all that is stalled
lifts off in dreams
A door opens on Lorca standing with his back
to the camera
in a courtyard in Spain wings protruding from
the shoulders
of his white linen suit on the front lawn
of my childhood home
a door opens on maple trees filled with light
I sing to them
and angels appear in the upper branches in
the deserts
of Venus a door opens on a pale horse turning
pink
in the rosy glow of the setting sun all that
is stalled lifts off
in dreams birds of ruby glass alight on the
pilings of a pier
over the Hudson a door opens on the palms
of my hands
imprinted with hearts and wands crosses, stars,
and planets
assuring my good fortune to get lost in a
movie palace circling
a sarcophagus filled with sand from the Valley
of the Kings
deep in outer space a door opens on Neil Young
the sky pilot
flying from point to point to fire the stars
with a gas torch
igniter and all that is stalled lifts off
in dreams
On a bed rimmed with flowers and the yellow
pollen that glistens
on my skin in the dark I lay me down on cool
white sheets
on a pillow with a key of gold I lay me down
to open the doors
where all that is stalled lifts off in dreams
A door opens on a courtyard deep in outer space
in the palms of my hands the night opens at
last
©2002 Janet Hamill