by Rosana Garcia

Water dreams of its journeys, its dirty secrets,
its mystical creatures no one believes exist.
Water rises in the heat and maybe it’s the beauty
of the stars it sees that far up that makes it fall,
tear-like, from God’s face. Or maybe it just misses
its riverbeds and salty oceans. I dream in water,
suspended in a clarity that no one but mermaids
have the breath to bear. Sex is a water dream,
as is birth and death. I want to be put out to sea
when I die, to float outward and upward into
a crystalline vision of the next life I will live.

(c) 2006 understar productions and Rosana Garcia