My wife’s a monster in our dreams— not just
mine: it’s a running theme. Our friends will say
to her, “do you know what you did last night?”
Dream Erika, she lives in an oak tree.
Some kind of crazy goblin girl— she must
work all day on her schemes. That awful way
she rubs her hands together, full of bite,
Dream Erika, the heartbreaker ice queen.
Real Erika, she cleans the stove, she dusts,
She vacuums and she sweeps every Sunday.
She hardly gets to sleep, and so she might
send out this alter-ego sex pot fiend.
She could be so damn good her shadow self
must raze the neighborhood in slumber’s stealth