A Dream of Burial by James Wright

A Dream of Burial

Nothing was left of me

But my right foot

And my left shoulder.

They lay white as the skein of a spider floating

In a field of snow toward a dark building

Tilted and strained by wind.

Inside the dream, I dreamed on.

A parade of old women

Sang softly above me,

Faint mosquitoes near still water.

So I waited, in my corridor.

I listened for the sea

To call me.

I knew that, somewhere outside, the horse

Stood saddled, browsing in grass,

Waiting for me.