I dreamed Sylvia Plath

Last night I dreamed    Sylvia Plath
she asked me to help wrap her body
in yards of faded calico gauze.  She wanted
to cover her wounds, oozing
like expanding territories on a map, they take over
her feet, her thighs, her thumbs.
she said:
when night chases me, I fight back   the dark   to save myself
(in the saving, i lose
you
hand
me
that blood soaked cloth,
you ask if i can cure you--when i, all i can do,
are words.)
the blood   the cloth    and i
run
through deserts of a dozen reds    i run...

(4.23.2004)