in the night i go sailing

my night is a restless
whispering thing
at my ear
like a ghost
tireless in its haunting

if i try to love you
as hard as i hurt
something to rise to the surface
a white preserver
sprung from the black night
will you let me cling

if i scatter more touches
this time, than last time
will you please read into it
you know the touches i mean

i think if you find me sleeping
at last
it will be with your name
like a wreath in my hands

(it is not the things we take with us
to the grave
it is the things we weigh our boat with
to get to sleep)

the night is a push
from the harbor
the sound of calm water
the ache of trying to translate
the new language
of your scent in my hair
even though i can't remember
the last time you touched me

the long wandering of bare feet
the eternal wait for your response
it pulls
like the sleeves of my sweater
that i clasp in my fists
as i warm my palms

are you going to let me keep clasping
let me close my eyes
let me push the boat out
to somewhere that is still enough
that the first thing i feel
when the dream starts
is your arms
because i've waited long enough
already


a.w.