Dream

I open a mailbox on the street--
inside, a note addressed to me, from
the "Commissioner of Poetry."
My poem "Show & Tell" has won
an award; I am to report immediately
to the auditorium to read the poem.
I look for the poem in my papers
but cannot find, so go to the
library to look it up on computer.
The library is in a castle
on a hilltop; the librarian looks like
Dracula's daughter. All the computers
are in use now; and she is sorry.
When she turns from me I bite her
on the neck: the taste of her blood
reminds me of the taste of cod liver oil.
My grandmother walks up to me with
a book in her hand; a hardcover copy of
GONE WITH THE WIND.