body

shield of dreams

you mention how i would cover your ears while you were dreaming

you loved that most. as you loved the bed. you say it even now

(i never knew you knew, but surprised at discovering you were often aware)

i-would-be-staying-awake-all-night-to-keep-covering-you-up-all-night

or so it felt.

i did care.

it worked best when you faced me, beauty up close

we argued (i think it was mainly me); you would get into bed and just drift off, effortlessly, effortlessly.

i would have to close doors, draw curtains, switch off lights and carry water like the water bearer i am, diligently, diligently.

i observed your sleep recently and it seemed less than friendly.

dissatisfied, it seems rather ruined and unsteady these days.

your closed eyes, the envy of mine, belie the unsleep under lids.

once neat, like your favourite slab of chocolate (contained, covered, safe, flat, trim and rectangle) your sleep now seems untidy and undone.

smelted, smeary, sticky, smudged, sweat-soaked, sleepunsweet.

one of these days it will be unraveled, i fear. a melted poollet.

right now it is a thin and threadbare throw, i know,

poor and hungry, sleep has grown older on you.

your beauty is the finest sand, but your rest is a puddle of dry mud.

you toss and turn, i see, a restless flood.

i am mournful for the frazzle of your darkmeltslumber.

it happened while i was not looking. it happened while i was away.

you say i may call you in the middle of the night.

you say you lay awake and wide on thursday until the morning four. or light.

i imagine you on your back with eyes marching straight ahead, wide and black

piercing into dark, aimless but steady in awake

and lack; i feel nothing but regret for that.

i could have thought, serves you right, but your loss makes me want to recapture rest for you. and i want to cover you in covers. those pretty pointed ears. beauty spot behind the left, perfectly round, a pretty toffeehued halfpea.

i want to cover your ears in safetysleep.

and keep them warm and feel you gather the heat that makes me turn the fan up, you sleeping and sleeping hot and sweaty and happy with moist smooth skin and soft veins, the damp ringlets surround your face and you are prettier than an angel.

lids lightly aflutter. sleeping less.

quite sleepless sleepless sleepless

seasofme210114oceanswing

to write this piece made me very happy; it says everything i meant it to say at the time and it still does