Susan Smith Nash



Braving the night,

the spoils of dreams are sweet --

something untoward in the light & dark

of breathing –


I was walking on the beach;

storms crouching down

in the form of relentless fog

or doubts – and certainly

you must have felt yourself overtaken


by me, by

the splash & grit

of salt and sand

on a pillow once shared --


the imprint of that dream

is still pressed onto my cheek, but

only for those first sad moments

after opening my eyes –

not seeing you, but sensing you still

after all these years…


if I could give you a name,

I would – if only to control

the mad tide of sadness –


and I ask you – how does it feel

to be not one, not two,

but a multitude

moored in one solitary mind?



---susan smith nash