fever dream

I was sleeping (with much waking)
and dreaming that the cherry blossoms were ending (except that's real)
and that arp was here (yes, a dream)
and that arp was sad (not a dream).

I woke and was cold and hot both
with the blankets and sheets bunched all around me,
ruins of of sleep-waking.
All that back and forth felt like nothing, in the end,
except it felt cold and hot and confusing,
and the aching aching aching,
and I thought: probably how arp feels lately.

Back into the fitful slumber
where the cherry blossoms are ending
and falling all around arp.
I gather them up, petals from her feet,
resting in her hair and snuggled to her shoulders,
and even miraculously clinging to her eyelashes.

Put them in a shallow little brown lacquered bowl,
holding it out to her, brimming with fallen blooms,
then I woke again hearing myself say to her,
They're yours, all yours.

And I sat here and tapped it out and thought:
I hope she knows what that means.