Poem 8, June 8

I am asleep on the sofa  

when you walk,
all of a sudden
the rickety gate
which opens one way
like eyelids  

walk into my dream
like sunlight
across an acre of Lake Cumberland
near Wolf Creek dam  

you walk out
of a picture on the wall
with your smile, the one
I find fascinating  

your silence
is an ear to the ground
listening for another woman
I never make love to  

your eyes
are those of a hawk
taking in the whole
field of my soul
where feelings
& thoughts
move introspecting    

I remember
when you used
to be a dragonfly
with wings
full of light
come from Old Seventy

at twilight  

these days
I read you

as though you are
a poem e e cummings
should have written  

a poem full
of hidden

& rhymes
& secrets
to understand
the words
the reader
must love riddles

to understand
the ultimate riddle
of love
of sex
of two as one

I read less
into the lines
& more into that warmth
resident in the words