Brian Burch’s “Allison Poem 18” reads like a quiet account of what happens when someone comes back. The return seems to repair a dreamlike state: “the veil of dreams / is rewoven,” and the city’s “cardboard cutouts” settle back into normalcy. That image suggests the world had felt flimsy, staged, or unreal in the person’s absence. Now it becomes ordinary again, but not entirely comfortably. The speaker notices a “coldness at my back” on display, as if vulnerability or emotional distance has become visible. The final detail, remembering to water the plants, is small but meaningful: ordinary care resumes, daily life picks up. The mood is restrained and slightly eerie, mixing relief with numbness. It feels like returning to routine after emotional disruption, where things are stable again but not necessarily warm.
Allison Poem 18 — Summary
With your return the veil of dreams is rewoven
the cardboard cutouts of the city return to normal
the coldness at my back is displayed
and I've remembered to water my plants.