Richard Thomas
PILLOW CARDS
Get in with us and look us over, once.
Searching exquisite surfaces and promising some loss,
it would be nice to be guided patiently
keeping night's cover. On the white wall,
painted blue with wishes, we wait to find out
where to be to begin. We comb hair, adjust ourselves,
breathing and listening and wearing old perfume
to help remember how we are so we will know it if
you come agam.
It used to be a sort of
invitation-a hollow
thudding, waiting,
a turning over against the pillow.
Times have changed its name to
some other, a simple quality
of need or seeming to.
Lost among the frequency of stars,
it is now indistinguishable from the night,
coming in her colors.
Clouds pass . Clouds pass. We sleep
spoon-fashion in the mouth of the wolf,
lucky
to
have our share.
