Jen Poem by Brett Rogers

This morning when I woke,
For a shooting-star second
(the pilot light beneath my skull clicked clicked clicked and caught)
I did not think of you … and felt still.

Or maybe, in my last minutes of sleep, I dreamt of us together,
Finally wed, your head in my lap on a front porch bench swing
Staring at some river, some birds, some sunset …
And my dreams crossed worlds for a blink, and were briefly known!
And it scorched across the blue-black sky.