_62. On Salvador Dali’s “Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening”

Every girl makes a good fisherman dreaming
even on the edge of the earth.
Shunning the common ambiguous rockfish of contemporary waters
you catch other seal-felines
with your exposed breast and pomegranate heart.
No one blames you.
No one knows
the contents of your illusory nightmares
decries your conjuration of beasts, ice-floes,
tusked aerials. No one even knows
you exist,
but the crew of the passing lucid ship,
who swear they saw a mermain in the light
of the moon.