Waking

I watched an early-morning dream today
about a different house: a big abode
of stucco, on a corner, which I’d pay
for with somebody culture calls my co-
dependent, never chosen, seldom seen,
a husband nice enough but not enough,
and as it faded with my waking, keen
I grew determined to endorse my stuff.

I woke alone and starfished in my bed,
alone on cotton sheets, beneath my down,
alone inside my little house, the dread
of trading up a fading feel, my gown
for rest instead of wedding. These I seem
to cherish, I’m reminded by a dream.