In dream-squalls, you dance like a blind cat
Striking parapets with claw and tooth —
Your ocher eyes as sealed as sundown.
Labyrinths twirl and twist
Beyond imagination’s barrows
Stuffed with thicket-thorns and
Weathered sheep-songs that clatter
And churn in your night-belly.
You have a stomach for sharp seeds
That germinate in sooty corners and
Eavesdrop for showers in cloistered crannies,
Those nooks where no beam falls.
And yet a glimmer slides beneath
The bed-sheets, a ray of grit
To lug daybreak’s wait from
Shadows to the edge of sunrise.