Sunday, December 5, 2010

He makes the night come and whisper

He makes the night
come and whisper in our ears
I'd been naughty
I'd made mother cry
I'd made her
run round the table.

I often had the same dream
I had the idea that
I'd been eaten up by the cats.

There are never two dreams.

They come up to the children
They come at night.
Grown-ups, they never dream.

We dream with nothing
In my bed
Under the blanket
It is in my bed beside me
Were it in my stomach
it would be
blocked by the bones.

And if I dream
it is only of you
your face
on every small neck
and you are in
my stomach I have
swallowed you in pieces
and reassembled you like
a shipwreck in a bottle.