I slumber tonight with seashell psalms,
watery quilts to cover
all the weary day
away
in foamy white sheep;

One—
Two—

Fourteen—
Fifteen—

Soon
I am cradled in the arms
of Moon’s hold,
her fingers steady,
as Night taunts;

Awaken—
Awake—

Crash—
Pull—

“There’s much to see
beneath the dark,
within the seams
that hold your wake,
no rest for you.”

And again
I count;

One—
Two—

Rocking in and out,
in and out,
my breath steady
on my sheep,
on my sheep;

One—
Two—

Twenty one&m...

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