I Am Going to Sleep

 Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.


I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed.

Set a lamp at my headboard;
a constellation; whatever you like;
all are good: lower it a bit.


Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through .
 .
 .

a celestial foot rocks you from above
and a bird traces a pattern for you

so you'll forget .
 .
 .
 Thank you.
 Oh, one request:
if he telephones again
tell him not to keep trying for I have left .
 .
 .

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