Surrender

( modified from an earlier poem)

We turn to sleep again at dawn,

the pale glow of morning against the dusty sky,

chirping birds and hooting trains singing,

the entanglement of bed sheets and

oversized pillows around our arms and legs,

the webs of passion,

or roots to some greater desire

of which neither can attest,

wood pressed against wood,

growing in and out of the barriers,

of our lives,

filled with moist dreams

and abrupt awakenings,

bars of light over limbs

only dawn can expose,

revealing us

in ways we never expected

but not undesired

for at the root of it all,

in this wrestling

over night

we ultimately

ache for

surrender.