Roll [once more] into sleep’s spindles
& those coils of dreams — of rapid eye
movement — of phases of oat moon in
your turned back eyes — roll with every
fade-in & out of your dreamt phantom
[ let sleep be your muted counsel now I
am not asked]/ Pull that drag of duvet
back from my vacated space — as your
body rubs on my flaked flaws — risings/
See those particles after bed-making?
I will float high over your future lovers
& enter their sleep & be a disturbance/
I’ll sprinkle a truth [motes never settle]
Originally published at https://mikebellpoems.com on March 19, 2020.