I Sleep

I sleep and in the awakened dream I sleep there too I sleep in the seamless silence of the snow in the last liquid of the empty cup I am asleep in the last anguish of your eyes I close my own the cars the streets the houses empty in the dark coffin of night there dreamless, and I sleep in the boundaries of the couch, the toilet, the stove we are sleeping I will not disturb us or light a match on the roof of my mouth or tend the carpet with my feet the plants are thirsty for my tears I will not water them the chairs the tv my coffee are waiting I will not go to them they are dreams dreams of the planet's course hurtling their projectiles lost in the chest of the soldier Walt Whitman awake amidst the pile of limbs and the shriek of truth beneath the warm blanket.