They say you shouldn’t talk about your dreams.
No one’s interested.
But what about those you can’t remember
Whether they were dreams or not?
I remember a deer
Who watched me as I walked past.
It was strange to see a deer so still
but stranger yet to recognize her.
Neurons hold such deep recall—
Dense as a city in a cell.
But she turned for just a second as if to run
and her hide had
—was it possible, a word?
—was it possible, a page?
a whole book written.
My life’s work etched on an animal.
Then she turned, and ran.
They say you shouldn’t talk about your dreams.
Jerome Ramcharitar is a writer based in Montreal, Quebec. Most of his days are spent teaching English as a second language and occasionally causing more trouble as a poet. A dabbler by nature, he has dipped his fingers into editing, translation, and the dangerous world of card games.