I do not dream often but I dream well.
Kalispell. I have not been to Montana.
Save it for dreamed walking on or off paths.
As I live for the dry. Flathead, I read.

I learn to lean on a shovel now,
Figuratively plow. I love the West.
I am learning how to preserve strength.
Too much lifelong energy fast spent.

I do not soon enough repent
Wasted energy expenditure.
I practice dreaming that I might conserve
The flexing of eager musculature

If often immature. I look as if
I’m young, and in my mind I am. My body,
Too. Too wildly aligned with my mind
To hold still. Yet I venture always, still.

Sheila E. Murphy appeared in Fortnightly Review, Poetry, Hanging Loose, others. Forthcoming: Escritoire (Lavender Ink). Permission to Relax (BlazeVOX Books, 2023). Gertrude Stein Poetry Award for Letters to Unfinished J. (Green Integer Press, 2003). Hay(ha)ku Book Prize for Reporting Live From You Know Where (Meritage Press, 2018).