The night before my dog died
I had a dream about a moth-woman.
She was beautiful, inhuman, familiar.
Her skin was golden, her hair flowed down
In soft yellow waves.
She smiled kindly to me
With a love only capable in animals:
Unconditional, unjudging.
She knew it would be the last time I would feel this.
I smiled back.
I don’t remember what she said,
But I think she said it would be okay.
I wish she would visit me again.
Maybe she would tell me that my dog misses me; Or that
my grandma still wants to hear how school is going. I wish
she would tell me it’s okay that sometimes I wish I was
always sleeping.
