.

the quietude of lists

you touch him in a dream
that`s barely there, like lakes
and floating geese at dusk,
lost cool and dim when liquid
flight fades indigo to night.

dark distance barricades you in
with half-closed lids and
shadow-thin beliefs that fight
for sleep like lashes brushed
upon a cheek in light release.

but in a starry state you say
his name aloud, it rides the tongue
like home to bed, the same strange slip
of questions blur til all too soon
soft sleep tugs loose

his hold on you.