I woke up from
a dream, crying
and asking for
water—the last time
it was ice cream
and new papers
father bought
for my birthday
he said, build
aeroplanes and
watch your dream
fly: the house
was quiet, the
trees were not
—when is daddy
coming back, I leaned
into mother touching
her breast as if
I forgot something
she kissed my nose
and went to the door
the rains were here
