See

by Jamie Parsley

See, how I wake
from sleep. See how I
am torn from the dream—
from the dream in which
you—
in that profile
and everything so blond—
looks off and turns
toward me only when
I turn away.

See how I am torn
in my dream
from the stones
of the wall
on which I have
been projected.
I move there—
a facsimile anyway—
lovely to you
in my dream.

Taste the metal
in my mouth
where the blood came.
See how I wake to this,
to blood,
to the torn-apart world
we live in
outside that dream.