“In the Cathedral”

Filing this poem under “dreams that seemed real enough to be memories.” Funnily enough, St. Paul’s Cathedral is the one major London landmark I haven’t actually stepped foot inside. Maybe one day!

Last night I dreamed of St. Paul’s–
and you.
We walked slowly,
taking our time.
You didn’t seem to mind
that I paused to read each sign.
And when I shivered in the center
of Wren’s compass, looking up,
you wrapped me in your coat
and sang “Feed the Birds”
into my hair.
The sudden evensong of our laughter
bounced and echoed off the marble
faces of frescoes
and disapproving docents.
“I like this place,” you said.

Upstairs in the gallery
we slid cold hands
along colder railings
and split up
to test the whispering walls.
You caught my eye
Across the open space under the dome
and pressed your lips to stones
Soaked through with lovers’ secrets.
But when I leaned in close
to catch your words,
the wall was a pillow
and you were gone.





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