thru dying leaf scent,
you said, you were in my dream.
we were in the underworld.
I didn’t know anyone,
but you had some friends there,
& I waited at the bar for you.
then you became an infant, & people
were holding you, saying you’d bloom
the vulnerability of being
a moth transforming itself
on maple tree in rain
the vulnerability of being a flower
tiny spiders bloom
from my water-filled hands