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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment