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  • The American Poetry Review

    TWO POEMS

    Nov 01, 2018 1 minute
    IRA SADOFF

    In My Dream

    I worried about my daughter,so I was shaken awakebecause I have no daughter, and whateverknowing looks, whatever cakeswe could have baked together, whatever giftswe could grant one another, they wereslipping out of sight, the way parents do,to those who belong only to the worldof writing and thinking. There was no body there.Of course there’d have been bribes,chastisements, attention-getting manipulations:but whose would they be? There was a trampoline,maybe a carousel, a clumsy gesture….I was raising her up so she could see:it was a nightmare. A nightmare I tell you, a nightmare.

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