Somnambulists

Next to him she is alone,
an island in herself,
sometimes to turn and hold
on ~ but not able to mention
the fear of falling.

He also is afraid, not complete
in his own mind, and in sleep
struggles with a way to become
stronger.

Doctors say the politics of sleep
is not to be interpreted
by psychology ~
if she steals the covers don't
burn her toast in the morning,
if he pushes you out
of bed, don't retaliate by not
making love.

Something about sleep is escapist ~
she lies in bed, floating on gray
mist, waiting for some way to sink
into oblivion, to be in utter darkness ~
in the place of not knowing.

In the morning it is hard to pull
herself out of bed,
to make blood flow vertically
instead of horizontally,
to walk out of the room
as if she was aware.


tracy lynn
spring 1995

very nice.

my blood wanted to flow horizonally as I made the oatmeal and toast to send them on their way


a cool poem

thank you.