“The Dream” by Sofia Bagdade

The Dream

She, white haired 
and reverant to 
snowflake symmetry 
and magnets, says 
she dreamt of 
me yesterday

We both saw 
cats, felines, 
mine a leopard 
and her’s a blue 
misted memory 
in the shape of a whisker 

Now I wonder 
if my grandmother 
held us all in 
her ovary, my 
mother and all 
these transferred dreams: 

Visions of red hair 
coiled to seashells, 
gold bangles and tables 
of scattered papers, finger- 
plucked and close as 
violin string dipping bow 

Our mothers, mother’s 
mothers’ eyes are brief 
stars that stretch as 
white rockets do the still night— 
“I wish you could see my memories” 
and then “Tell me where you are, 

I’ll get dressed up and come 
find you”