The dreaming octopus lights up and shifts
skin in the murk of its predator cave.
It shivers dreaming of crunching crab shells

in its beak-like toothed tongue. Eight small brains sleep
in its arms; two hearts pump blood to its resting
gills, as its central brain dreams of mauling

mussels. Feasting on mollusks in sleep, light
dances across chromatophores as
eyes on the skin spit colors of coral
red and coconut-cream to the big brain.

The creature’s three hearts want to cover ground,
want to slurp brine shrimp up as it waltzes
the sand-bottom, searching for a swallow—


searching for night to shiver off its body.