If memory serves:
there was a dark pool in my dreams
that you were bathing in-
and the moon, or rather, its other self
stretched itself from the sky
into the deep recesses of your iris.
and I, half asleep on the shore
laid there completely still,
watching you wade back and forth
until your arms tired from paddling
and you rolled yourself over to float
upon the weightlessness of the water.
All my dreams are this way, meaning something
my exhausted mind can only explain as
incoherent noise; waves that break
far beneath the surface.