We both dream about wild animals.
There had been a dog fight at the party—
the older, bigger dog somehow threatened
by the puppy, a girl—he was chasing her
in circles around the yard, knocking over drinks
and gnawing on her leg. I tensed
when they bumped against mine,
and you said not to be afraid of them,
they’re only dogs. A rash prickled up there
and I scratched it all night.
The birds screech outside at this bleak hour.
Why do they always sound terrorized?
It’s a wave—their cries, the encroaching light;
the room growing paler in pindots,
coming up to our edges. Us feeling separate.
The nightmare you gave me, or caught.