Beach Dream
poem by Ali Khan
I want you to remember what it was like in our dream:
There are violet pinpricks of light from the sky,
the sand is burning cold,
the water folds in front of you into the dead black night.
This dream is filled with many inconsistencies when we wake.
Firstly, there’s never been
this many sirens calling us out to rebirth;
there’s never been
a kind man’s words,
heavy and waxen, keeping us out.
In here, the salt feels like the immeasurable force of life;
with it sprayed out onto the unforgiving sand in endless dissolve.
The empty lifeguard tower
watches us dry up in the dusk,
but the crisp air sharpens our lungs
to life.
Out there, there is an echo of music.
There is a lonely cello, a lonely man’s cries,
yes, there are many other lonely dreamers swaying,
baptized in the spray;
yes, we all have listless eyes that widen
searching out into the horizon,
drafting out through the dream
to land in the dark.
Ali Khan is a student, essayist, and poet based in Irvine, California. When not obsessively reading Richard Siken and tracking submissions on Chill Subs, she draws inspiration from folk music and from exploring the natural world. Her poem “Sleep” is published in Wingless Dreamer, and her poem "For her" is to be published in ¡Pa’lante!. Most of her recent poetry is available primarily on Substack at @alikhanask.