I recollect a nightmare that occurred
when I was five or six and learning fears,
constructed on a theme at once absurd
and absolutely normal for my years:
My father sent me to the basement stair,
but there the light was out – I couldn’t see –
and I stepped off the landing onto air
and plunged into a dark infinity.

I woke in sweat and terror, I recall,
at least a couple times, until I heard
me tell myself there’s no harm in a fall
of dreaming, and it never more recurred.
“I’m dreaming” rang inside me like a chord.
Then fall was flight and light through darkness poured.