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The Dream of a Fire Engine

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Without the sun filtered through closed eyelids,
without the siren along the service road,

without Grandpa’s ginger-colored hair,
Mother’s lipstick, Daughter’s manicure,

firecrackers, a monkey’s ass, a cherry, Rei’s lost elephant,
without communist or past tense,

or a character seeing her own chopped-off feet dancing in fairy slippers,
or Mao’s favorite novel about a chamber —

the scientist of sleep has claimed
that without warm blood a creature cannot dream.

Source: Poetry (May 2012)

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This poem originally appeared in the May 2012 issue of Poetry magazine

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The Dream of a Fire Engine

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