Claire Asleep

the smell of sun-warmed summer grass
her fingers are so big, the fingernails finally clean
her feet have stopped hurting

a long white table, white as the sky
no ceiling or walls
the women wear white robes
they’re eating meat with their hands

Claire’s allowed to eat, too,
since the animals reappear behind her chair
not just remade whole, but reborn into ecstasy

the cows snort and roll in the pale grass
their plump beige bellies, their joyous udders
wiggle and point at the sky
on the golden sand
they scratch their backs, this side, then that

they sit up and shake their whole skin
with a shudder, a deep contented sigh
and call to the other grazing animals
the deer, horses and sheep
with the clear
notes of a cello

the women have bloody mouths
Claire included but
the blood turns to honey
they wipe their lips
with the backs of their hands
and they suck the sweetness
from each other’s fingers
without giggling

it’s Claire’s dream
so it ends happy
with the women weaving white flowers
into the manes of smiling palominos
and whispering tips to each other
about how to avoid chipped nails
grow bright blue feathers down the spine
and get blood out of cotton