questions on a dream
what am I to make of a dream where I find myself in an office
having been questioned for hours by faceless government officials
now all but set to pass judgment on the validity of my citizenship
were the walls cement-gray
were there stains on the floor
what am I to make of a dream where I’m given only twenty
minutes to fill out twenty SAT-type test sheets with questions
not nearly as innocuous as they seem
were the light bulbs bare
were all the doors locked
what am I to make of a dream where the validity of my citizenship
bears no relationship to my status as a citizen
which can be revoked if my score doesn’t measure up
was there enough time to think
was time standing still
what am I to make of a dream where waking up doesn’t shake off
the chill running down my spine or dry the sweat on my hand
that grips the number 2 pencil
was I short of breath
was I in shock
what am I to make of a dream where from the window I see a black
van backing up to the loading dock of this government building
which I am not free to exit on my own
was my mother still alive
was Kafka in the corner— taking notes