That you would turn to me in the night
in sleep
that you would clasp me then
while I, awake,
wondered at the magic of it
A witching hour
when you gifted me your waking soul
warming the cold sheets
The lonely street outside
the whine of the police car, vivid flashing blue wail
the street sweeper sailing on the river Styx
shiftworkers whirling past on broomsticks
That I was caught in your sleeping arms silent
in the deep of your sleep
I was not alone then
because in sleep
you had turned toward me
