To Sleep

                               A blinking jet plane

                               distant with fuel

                               and hunger

                               takes off low

                               to the bitter ground

                               A nearby fluster

                               of  small wet sparrows 

                               feather-beats its way

                               through a covey of long  

                               whispers drawn thin with a  

                               sudden escape from

                               fake dangers in the yews

                               A scrawny dark river unfurls

                               her swollen arms, flows

                               her whole night's blood long

                               and sparkling, curls

                               beneath the humming

                               breast and heaven’s newest

                               strain 

                               Crickets and stars harp
                               well into the darkness,
                               harp deeply through the silence,

                               harp on and on about the gravel

                               distance of roads long ago while

                               soft underbellies of young

                               white clouds draw silently near

                               looking for new milk

 

                               Now the lilacs of summer

                               droop with ripe aromas;

                               iridescent hummingbirds,

                               green and dark, plump themselves

                               full of small-blossomed secrets

                               too noiseless and small for us to know 

                               Clean summer sheets

                               that once gathered us close

                               in their soft linen flames

                               now cover us with sleep, sleep

                               in our own silences, our own bitter skies,

                               our own familiar ceilings full of blank
                               bright stars who never look back

                               at their own burning