Sleepers, Awake

(after Norman O. Brown)

Sleep is
separateness. Whatever
dream it carries – dream of the chase,
falling, twelve women staring into
the bonfire – whatever the dream, you
are the sole protagonist. That finespun skin
where the jaw meets the ear,
where you kissed last night -- it was
your own. And while there is
no harm in this, still
remains the elect: sleeper, awake.

Sleep is saline,
the trace element, lumisterol,

ritual, loves us, comes
to our beds every night.
Sleepers, awake.

Sometimes it takes most of the day
to be done falling. Some
say we never are, we dream
unbrokenly, alone, to ready
our dying into the broken earth.
But if we live a sloping
dream, is it not one
we can move through? I believe it is.
Sleepers, loves, children
as we are of night, sleepers, awake.