Ghostly Surgery
When we are sleeping, both, forever, I
Will sift your soul subconsciously. This search
Will certainly include past dreams and pry
Among your souvenirs. I’ll find the perch
Where this and that love rival have been stored.
I’ll oust them, send them flapping to new deaths,
Much darker than the doom where we are moored.
I’ll gloat to hear their plummeting last breaths.
And then I’ll root around your spirit’s sleep
To spy out places where you plonked each thought
Of me and resurrect it from the deep
Banishment inflicted, then besot
Your trapped eternity with memories of
Our blissful moments and forgotten love.