By Dobby Gibson

In the end I imagine
it’s the only thing
they’ll dress us in
if we can reach the place
where the others
have been waiting
last night I dreamed
you were the one
who found a way
to email me from there
with more of the poems
that never stopped arriving
when you were alive
in my dream you wrote
never use gown in a poem
unless you really mean it

and when I woke
I knew I shouldn’t wait
to say I miss you
my brilliant and difficult friend
you were haunting me all along
when I reached out
my hand it passed through
without touching the scar
I should have known
the way cats followed you
everywhere like words
I didn’t know the meanings to
the way someday I’ll learn
it’s finally my turn
to reach for what hangs empty
from the silver hook
on the back of the strange door.

Dobby Gibson is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Little Glass Planet (Graywolf Press, 2019). He lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

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