I
pull you over me
Like
a silk sheet
Cool
skin growing
Warm
with a touch
Soft
on every part
As I
move
This
sleep we sleep
That
is not sleep at all,
Shakes
us at every turn,
We
making and remaking
This
bed we lay on
Finding
excuses
To ruffle
it,
I
feel you around me,
Tight
the way
A glove
is tight
But
it is not a finger
I
press inside,
Easting
in and out,
The
ritual that wakes me
And
also puts me
To sleep,
As potent
as any drug,
We strolling
leaf-strewn paths
In our
own waking
And
in our dreams,
Hear
the hoot of trains
That
have long ceased
To come
this way,
Leaving
only the soot
Of their
passing
On dark
tunnels below,
For
us to explore,
And
the soft touch
Of silk
around our limbs
This
pace we exist in,
Real
and unreal
Made
up each morning
By the
made service
Of our
rational minds
To become
ruffled again
By passion
that has
No reason,
Only ritual and release
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