Hush

Angels hover, lantern-strung
above the stillness of our bed.
Their whispers echo in the dark
and weave our dreams with cryptic threads.
Your eyes in silence lie awake,
they reach out and amuse me,
haunt me and disown me
a thousand times
a thousand times
you've heard it all before.
Midnight has grown tedious
but shadows make good reasons
to linger in monotony.
Don't forget to dance.
Daylight is a wicked season.
Morning threatens
scorching fragile lenses
burning iris wide awake.
Your slumber, dear, so soft,
your numbered days ticking off
one by one
one by one
your footprint (static) on the moon.

2006