She’s still soft asleep
I would bury her body in words
Ravish her silk ribbed neck
Yet speech might soon arouse her

The moon peeks in and taps her wrist
I should not end dreams
I’ve not dreamed myself

My nurse stirs
Perhaps my whispered curses
Will buy not love but a long syringe
Betray me to that passionate seduction:
The delirious fantasy of hope