POEM A DAY – February 10 – VANESSA SHIELDS

Before I fell asleep last night, we were watching Dune. And before that, the leftover brownie’s from Super Bowl were chanting my name. And before that, my left forearm was tingling. And before that we were talking about parties. Turns out my subconscious gathered all this information and created a dream narrative for me! Except the carpal tunnel pain was not a dream. In a bit of a flare up there…but it’ll calm down. Oh, and this is another haibun poem.

Bardem and Cake

Last night’s dreams brought Bardem and cake
and yesterday’s poem moved into my forearm:
heated itchiness under my skin knifing muscles
too deep to scratch, bloomed into pain. I awoke
tearing at the chaotic stuck spirit, left arm, left
dreams, left desires, south-paw pandemonium
damn carpal tunnel burning me alive. And then
the dream was me and carload of women, long-
dressed divas going to a party, and there was cake
so much cake, pink, blue, purple, green triangle
sponge slathered in white butter cream. I ate and
ate and ate and then I wanted to dance to move
so I pushed through the throngs following the music
and upstairs in a dark bedroom: giddy laughter
more horror than human, and Javier Bardem
told me to get in the car. He was wearing white
linen, his crooked scarred face a work of art.
In the back seat as he drove me away, a glitch
on the horizon: it’s AI, someone whispered,
it’s all AI. Faces and places. The cake. Javier.