2
I dreamt I wrote a poem in which I used
a word that does not exist: replenatory.
bastard of resplendent, planetary.
your resplendence, your planets, your
gravitational field that attracts objects into orbit.
I am at the edge; force so close that if
I reach out I can skim that cloud of dust
like a children’s toy magnetic drawing board.
those minuscule particles appeared wherever you
placed your pen. the magic of the magnadoodle
was that you never saw the line til you drew it,
though it was there all along. did the pen hold
the power? or was it something in the fragments?
we pull or are pulled. we can’t always tell
the difference.