Stolen Dress

I was walking through a vast darkness

in a dress studded with diamonds, the cloth

under them like chain mail—metallic,

form fitting like the sea to its horizon. I could

hear waves breaking on the shore and far off

concertina music drifting over the dunes. What

was I doing in high heels in sand in a diamond-studded

dress that had to be stolen? Fear washed

through me, as if one of those waves had

risen up and, against all the rules of waves,

splashed me from the shoulders

down. I was wet with diamonds and fear.

A small boat held offshore with its cold

yellow light pointing a long watery finger at me

while the stolen feeling of the dress sparkled

my location out into the universe. Thief! Thief!

came an interplanetary cry, causing me to

gaze up into the star-brilliant firmament,

for it wasn’t just a sky anymore. It had

taken on biblical stature. How had I

gotten into this dress, these unruly

waves, this queasy feeling I would be

found out? Time to run! my heart said,

pumping away under its brocade

of diamonds. Strange vacancies had

accumulated after all my sleep-plundered

nights. Thief! came the cry again, as if

I should recognize myself. And I did.

I flung those high heels into the depths,

took up my newfound identity, and without

the least remorse, began to run those diamonds

right out of this world.