Perhaps I should ask the one-time Jungian I married
To analyze my dreams,
And speak of the archetypes that give structure to my silliness,
Except that she looks so peaceful
Laying in the waterbed
With our little girl turned sideways,
Mistaking her soft body for a pillow,
Head and breath alike matching rhythm
To her mother's rising, falling lungs.

Perhaps I should stare more often
At the figures on my bed
And the sun striking the tops of the trees
In my yard
And the horses next door,
Except I stare enough already
That the neighbors have due cause
To think me mad;
I wonder if my ex-Jungian spouse would agree?

 11-30-99
 

Photo by Carolyn Adams-Price

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