Because I don’t sleep at night
I inhale constant volumes of you
The space beside me
Is one of my voluminous exhales
And gives graciously against my palms
The night slices off pieces of itself
And they fall like great blocks of marble beside me
Crushing my exhale with a great whoosh
And my lungs inflate with your violent wingspan
As I struggle to chip away the icy stone
Trying to palpate the arch of a rib
or the hyberbole behind a hipbone
or the curve above the heart’s repugnancy
my belly sinks into the cool permanancy of wakefulness
eyes peeled open
you, still battering and twisting in my torso.
You will not be still, and I accept your chaos.
For in all of your dulce-darkness and turmoil
My breath would cease in your stillness
And in sleep your volatile beauty would fade.
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