After Midnight
The sea sleeps at your feet,
under your body, in your ear.
I sleep distant from the sea, and summon dreams from the distance
(as currents summon driftwood, remains of old caravels, matériel
cast overboard during all those past sinkings - slow and sudden)
to lap at the window where your eyes
- in which I now swim-sleep - scan
The sea of sleep, of possibility.
for K
My Poems
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