Telling: Streams & Logs

Poetry

the dawn side of bed

Sleep has melded me to the bed
erasing any edge to pull away with.
If I am to rise it will be lugging
the whole dreamless night along with me,
too broad for the door, too complex
for the stair.

Unwieldy, I am I 
and bed and floor and
impossible doorway, 
unanswerable window,
unspeakable light reclining 
on the frost-numb lawn.