in your sleep - a pastiche of unfinished
parts and some scenery - only someone
you toss off before coming to : surely
more relaxed? at ease? my needing always
to be, now more your business than my own .
I forget myself, thanks for having me,
though only as much of me as you might
care to muse upon, as we bear ahead
along this uneven path you parcel
out to us, in short lengths fit to measure.
Where the field , giving way, sways awkwardly
like a rope bridge over that cloudy drop
you wouldn't dream of, we move slowly on
into the daylight hours above us:
morning where you wake alone, its colors
beginning- the simple dye leaked into
an unrippled sky, calm as lake water,
stirring nothing but a school of timid
stars that swims quietly away from it
to the safer deep; finally your room
as well cleared for the weaker outposts
of daylight, the little that gets ahead
of itself, the familiar advances
you once rose to and made so much of, now
your being alive there, at last only
another part of what's ordinary.
Washed, and dressed, a moment of just sitting
as the room brightens, you take leave of me .
Wake up! Did you really think I would go
so far? Granted, this way's uncertain,
making the odd appearance, a figment
of someone else's imagination ,
