the night fills
with the notes of those songs
that were my last dream

a black mare
trotting into wakefulness
wants to graze here to nibble
on my short supply of carrots
until my fingers are next
her frightening heterodontous teeth
sliding over my still sleeping hand
lodged under my side

you shake me i’m still sleeping
and i throw myself at you
your lips are comfort
as i take off my wet clothes
and ask you to love me
we rumble the early morning
then sweetheart there is time
together sitting under the stars
but no more sleep my life

black this coffee
and long this cigarette
then these questions
for such dreams mean
much more than sex to you
and i hate such interviews