Sleep

Written by: Michael F Lewis

Sleep

It is often too potent an image
But as often still I want to kill it
And satisfy and make it fat with heat
And sweat and let it sleep,
Let it sleep, then die
The drink it fills with red 
Drops low and loose the hidden
And slides into a single dream
The air thickens with submissions 
In irresistible stale breath
And rotted grapes picked 
And with chocolate, dark
On lips with visions of here and
Now sleep, then die until sunrise.

MFL 8/26/2009