Shape of Anticipation

There are a few little things
I notice when you're sleeping
One, I see a pull toward warmth, a closing
Two, I see a twitch, a tic, a stir, a stop
Three, I see stillness
I'm asleep myself before there can be four

Instead of running away or taking away
Let's call it something else
Like making songs or raking leaves
Or writing histories
Big things up close
Small things from far away

In the moment before
We speak of belonging
Or the moment after
We speak it again
I hear in the exhalation
A sweet anticipation
If I had to guess its color
I'd say orange
If I had to guess its shape
I'd say a bendy line
Two sides meeting, closing
Into a barely open eye
If I had to pick a place
I'd want to see that orange shape
It would be a finger length above
The smaller of the two big planes

February 28, 2007