While the world sleeps
poems
- While the world sleeps
- I wake
- into the soft unfolding
- of morning.
- Between stanzas I’ve suddenly
- forgotten (forgive me Szymborska)
- is clasped
- a single thread
- of auburn.
- It’s been months since
- I last found you
- rising
- and falling
- like a fawn yet nuzzled
- by the cold breath
- of winter
- and demands
- beside me
- beneath familiar sheets.
- My poems miss
- your eyes,
- my fingers
- your scars,
- my world
- your gravity.
- The strand still lingers
- and dresses herself daily
- in the same sunlight
- and the same unturned pages
- I still can’t remember,
- still waits for her sisters
- to come again, loosen up
- and curl themselves
- around words, lines, and stories
- that have yet to be read
- by more than my eyes
- alone.