Dreamt Poem Written Immediately Upon Waking Some nights, dreaming, we arrive at a thirst In the dead center of us, axel-like, Columnar, pestle-shaped, composed of pink, Compacted salt, salt that thirsts for water So it can turn it salty, and we begin Licking it with sidelong bovine lashings of A tongue so long we can see it, carving It into a windswept sandstone shape Until abruptly waking with a thirst A thousand freshwater lakes couldn’t slake.