the dreamed house was perfect
and strange as an eye in formaldehyde—nothing
where it belonged, oranges ripe in the furnace, you
at a window looking out into illegible clouds.
waking makes effigy
                                       of people in dreams.
light drew prevailing winds over the continents
mapped by the ceiling cracks—it was no world
I recognized. we reached
                                               no conclusions—the last
thing said was the last thing said, left lying whole
and softening between us when I woke.

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My friend Alice Letowt has also written a poem called "On Likeness," later renamed "Bouldering as Forgiveness." My "On Likeness" is this color [#5c1524] and hers is this color [#c5d7db].