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You, Sleeper

by Andrew Prince

Just the darkness
of switching off the lamp
cools the dayís passions
and brings a weight upon us.
You hear what you would not:
the cat under the house;
the refrigeratorís hum and click;
and outside one tree leaning
against another, groaning through the night;
the rain; the wind.
The cat chases a mouse.

Just the darkness takes this world
and you slide
into water or heavy wind.
This is not the world
it is weight and delirium,
simple time, un-time.

Just the darkness takes this world
away from you and gives it back in a dream,
of heat, passion, of chasing
or being chased. Your breath hums
and cools to the night.
The sky pushes down.
A groan escapes your dream
into my quiet world
and I lean away
into darkness.


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