Yet to Come – by Will Walker
I lay down in the desert
and sprouted an oasis.
It was a marvel:
date palms, an ornate tent
set next to a small body
of clean water, an untroubled well,
jeweled starlight girding the night sky.
Then I awoke to my life after midnight:
a bed full of invisible dust mites,
my head bobbing in a river flooded
with the sounds of the little man
who lives behind my eyes,
describing disasters yet to come.
Look at the sky, I told him,
how can we come to any harm?