for her baby
let time retract her bleak remorse
don't let the dog bark
don't whip the wind up
don't stop the ice cream van and buy one
don't chase the parabola of a shooting star
into the embrace of a sea
whose bed is as cold
as the mirror image of a lost lover in winter
or stay where you are
because the luxurious smatter of falling straw
tinting the sky as blue as remembrance
with golden lengths of light in motion
licks you with it's kisses bringing pleasure
like a cat full of eminence
slopped out regardless like eternity
giving benign purpose to the fire place
and making sensual nobility out of pure existence
needing no excuse or therefores to be redundant
and empty of all deliberation
when she is so aware and attentive and alert
and perpetual
especially
in her sleep.
you can listen to Lydia Gibbons reading these words:
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