Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Sleep

If I talk
in my sleep,
you listen for a while
and wake me up
with a jolt;
there's laughter in your eyes,
stupefaction in mine;
you muffle
my embarrassment
with your rough embrace
and ask me about my dream.

If you lie
awake at night, your eyes
flickering open,
irritated by the bright light
as I work on my computer,
I feel compelled to
turn around and
assuage you
ever so often,
with a nervous promise
of finishing soon.

If I wake
up in the morning
to a mugginess
rolling in the air above,
resisting my efforts at
squinting through shut eyes,
you toss around
and draw me back
into our entanglement,
and I give in.

Here is sleep,
crawling back to us,
always at the ready
to swallow us whole
until the next time.

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