“Meltwater Basin” by Ellen Chang-Richardson1 min read

Photo by Mahkeo

Have you ever had those dreams
you know, those carbon-dark
sorts of dreams?

Where monsters and men made
of the same fabric move in
and out of each other, amorphic?

I’ve had;       those sorts of dreams.
those lamp-black,
sorts of dreams,

in each one
there you are
on horseback,             bareback
from the waist up,

in each one, there you are:
astride                      your shadow steed
like a legion of Kazakh Kings;

damn them,
these dreams.
These gut-wrenching
teeth-clenching
sweaty sorts of dreams, that
melt in,   to each other
profuse and confused, soporific in nature.

It’s funny, these
sorts of dreams, these
burnt sienna, lamp flare, cotton-filled dreams.

They remind me of a time, long past
where my seas and your shores met like towers in rain,
they remind me.

Of leafy green, high golden mushroom haze;
where my lips and your limbs met
wrapped, in polyurethane.

Ellen Chang-Richardson is an emerging Canadian poet of Taiwanese and Cambodian-Chinese descent. She/her, Ellen holds a BFA from the University of Toronto and certificates from the Gemological Institute of America, and the Node Center for Curatorial Studies, Berlin. Ellen is the founder of Little Birds, a poetry workshop currently based in Toronto (http://littlebirdspoetry.ca).