With snakes round your neck
and sleep in my eyes
your tongue moves to music
my throat sinks in sighs.
You soft nighttime creature
all feathered and swathed
your hands drift like moonbeams
your boa is frothed.
The moon thrusts her chin
into dissonant night
while I watch, lip trembling
your kindness; your light.
My eyes should be closed
but your face pulls me in
an extraterrestrial
in sweet human skin.
I don’t want to need you
but I do, and can’t sleep
so I stare and I cry
while you sing about sheep.
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