Planting Seeds In My Sleep
Two pebbles, or pearls, or pills,
Are placed in my palm; pretty are
The whitewashed stones of sleep.
Welcome medication in place of music,
Needing louder, needing noise, needing you.
Too much sleep has been lost to the sound of your silence.
Descend to dreams,
Where I find you in my fallow thoughts
And plant, anticipating growth, seeds for a hardy love.
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