Somnus

SOMNUS

VERSION II

Rolling thunder deep
in the colon of the night,
awakens me,
followed by the electric bleat
of a train horn,
and the elephantine clatter
of steel on steel,
shaking the windows
and the bed;
with the great headlamp
bleeding yellow-white
through the venetian blinds,
dancing laser-like on your long hair,
as you lie on your side
near me.

02:30am,
and it's cold outside
the covers,
as I pull my hand underneath,
searching for your hand,
then wrapping my frozen fingers
around the slim warmness of yours;
as you stir and moan gently
talking to someone at work
or in Texas.

I snuggle down amid
my asthmatic mountain of pillows,
until my shaggy head
is very close to you,
and your lover's breath
sends ripples over my eyebrows.

I touch your cheek
and I can feel the deep REM rhythms,
soft and soporific
against my palm,
and I dare to wonder where you are
at that moment;
what exotic adventures
you had immersed yourself in,
and whether I am there,
or the girls,
or your parents,
or either
of your first two husbands ?

My darling,
how can I ever know
what is behind your frantic fluttering ?

Well, yes,
sometimes I can
when you are the somnambulist
venturing bravely in the dark
to the bathroom
and back;
when we have sleep-talk,
you do share the high points
of your last dream,
just before you slip away again,
sliding quickly back
to some very distant place.

Later,
as the murky mists
of my mind
begin to fill the room,
I wonder if we will ever have
a simultaneous sylvan dream ?

Then smiling,
with the last shreds
of consciousness,
I remember that when we are awake,
we do.


Glenn Buttkus 1993