Читать книгу Where the Sky Opens - Laurie Klein - Страница 17

Morning, with your pillowed hands

twisting over the bed, do you envy

human desire, its midnight hinge,

covet our slack-jawed alpha waves

morphing to REM and then

a prance of neurons, an in-burst

of the invisible? All those covert

sleep spindles slowing the heart,

cooling the body—yes, we are

lapped ‘round with rest: one delta

astride a deepening river, one dream

richer than silt.

Poor Great Ante Meridiem!

Another graveyard shift, the looping,

half-world commute—no wonder

you snap the shade on its roller,