When in my night the coming cold

Slips under the ribs of dreaming, turns

Its stiletto to still my pulse, your hold

ECTs my shivered heart and burns

Breath where my lungs thought roots would grow.

It’s a trick only you know.

 

Then in the dark your given warming

Fleshes the bones of fear with hope

Makes of the midnight shocking morning

Startles my lips, whose stuttering trope

Muddles the moment with unmuttered meaning;

And you wake me back to dreaming.

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