not quite like the hamlet scene (a draft)

Emma:
i hate these dreams
within dreams,

like double shelled
eggs, or potatoes

that you peel and slice
open to find
a second skin

cradled in bone
colored root. there is

a safety in saying
to yourself, "that may
have been only a dream,

but everything before
and after
was real and right,"

that makes the aching
slip into waking
so much sharper

as your fingers tear
at second skins
and yolk dribbles
out of the sun--

freud, i think,
was wrong
about the wish

but not so wrong
about its
existence.

I'm sorry that I didn't have my name on this before. My internet went haywire while I was posting it; I meant to go back and fix it but things got hectic. I'm looking for general suggestions, especially about whether to cut or leave the last two stanzas, because I've looked at it so many times it may as well be a blender manual at this point. Thanks.