Dreamt again of rearranging furniture with such purpose – and a root vegetable that I grated and shaved into decorative ribbons to announce the import of this place – all these ordinary things made extraordinary by the way I lay them in relation to each other – as we are made sacred by our relationships to each other – standing alone just the way I’ve fallen, I am a dusty, battered couch smelling of moth balls, no thing to admire – but willfully placed with artful hands and hopeful heart, I am transfigured – with you I have undergone everyday metamorphosis – I am cockroach, stuffed with feathers, burnt to a cinder – I am tuned to a foreign key to trill unfamiliar tones – my lips, heart and thoughts slip down unfamiliar pathways – you remind me every day with your frozen limbs and your quiet mouth, “this is so uncomfortable” – yes love, it is – like lifting up a Persian rug and peering underneath – finding the crumbs of a century, yellowed toenails, mouse poo, crushed beetles, globs of dust, some crusted vomit, rotting fly carcasses, wet soil, delicate roots like spiderwebs, maggots, earthworms – how did all this get here? – more to the point, what did you think you were made of? There’s a dark, fertile world under your beautiful surface that is the ground you walk on. It provides the sustenance for new things to grow. The fruits we gather in our summer skirts have been fed by the decay of our undergrowth. To champion one element of this perfect cycle and deny the rest is to choose a half-life – the only villain in this tale is the moralistic King of preference who insists that his likes and dislikes are god-given truths that must be followed – so if you must, slay only your mad kings, with your eyes wide open, slay the dictators but don’t look away, slay your inner mafia, slowly, with your bare hands, those who’ve held your city under its thumb for too long, now – courage and love abound – I felt the lightness of your being on my pillow this morning, after your nocturnal violence, some dust had settled with determination and justness – you were subtly transfigured, dare I say, happy in the fullest way, in the afterglow of an honest night’s work.