poems
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The Slumber
I dreamt
of spending every night
beside a different body
sinuous and willowy
bulky and pillowy
shy and bold
warm and cold
responsive and alert
sullen and inert
&c.
&c.
for a year
ten years
a hundred
&c.
and then
after so many nights,
so many bodies,
finding someone there
who wasn't dreaming,
someone there
to wake me up.
Now I am awake
and can barely remember the bodies.
Can barely remember the slumber.
Can barely remember
the need to be woken.
All poems are written and copyrighted by M. C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.