THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I have a dream: I lie asleep in a large, black wooden boat. My skin is marble white, my palms upturned. There are flowers arranged around my head and shoulders and a veil over my face. It is funereal, but I don't know why. I sit up. Looking upwards, the trees are so close they touch. We are not going anywhere. Moving, but in no direction.
A man is in a smaller boat beside me. I love him, but do not know him. He is almost tangible to me, but I do not know him, cannot remember him. I crawl from under my veils and my flowers into his boat. I sit on his lap. He kisses my neck, unzips my dress, drinks honey from my breasts.
I love him enough to crawl inside of him. I do. It is safe.