In a time, once; a land, far off
a woman is dreaming. Her nearly beautiful face
opens happily to take in your budding fingers,
the cord securing her body to your future

She counts atoms, names your neck king
of this time, this land
rubbing her hands together, a symmetrical cloud
of smoke pushes against the wind

a prayer from the dream to the dreamer
and it’s a sign, she thinks, pushing the unease beneath her feet,
this was the right time to come to this place,
to meet a boy in a field of lavender

until your course was set and here you are, having flown
past the pinwheel galaxies into the warmth of soft darkness,
into a woman’s dreams, months before something wrong sets in,
your time is now; your place is her