Sleep tight baby while I troll the mud for blues.
Sleep in the cheap pull of this, our mattress of rented comfort, shelter
at ground zero, cushion of the coming day, grave of the past
action: footsteps, siren scares, traffic warning to run, run, run.
Slip water down your soft throat to your belly, let worry hibernate
till morning crawls to the window to beg at the sill.
--please let me in child,
please let me into your eyes--
We're all young children when morning comes
crawling and pleading to our eyes.
Free Williamsburg | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
| August 2000 | Volume 6