I dreamt you were taking a teaching job in Nebraska
you were so dewey pre natal romantic about it
rumors of farmhouses for  $250 a month
bragging how your “practice” would remain somatic 
no matter the regional regulations 
I was mostly jealous smirking  
day-drunk Eve loopy from blue ray and gossip
the repeated news that MSG is actually 
not bad for you, and hopefully salt and sugar neither? 
But lying in the sleep capsule with its dry dry heat 

I can taste how our old dynamic is not seasoned for vitality at all, 

and I’d trade my dreams in a pumping beat 

for 3 year old Maeve’s, flush with Covid
who wakes her family in the night 
to demand in several screams
the snack the snack the snack
in the golden bowl