in a blanket of darkness
i feel your invisible movements
and wonder what it could be
the precise feeling that cannot
beget words to be spoken.

is it an ancient stir?
a millennium instinct
to keep and be kept?
Is it a mirror, or a staying
or becoming. I want to
describe to us both the moving
of the spheres and what you
what you had to do with it.

incomprehensive your proximity
and blindsided by a sacred instant
I hum psalm-like into your sleepy hair.

I turn to you half-conscious
I rest my ear on your chest
and listen to your entire life.