every night I lie down with dancing

dreams-come-true
rumours out from her hair

speaking words from elsewhere…
Every dark-sky, I find my home

in her smell
in her body, it is my castle
and I walk away, half awake, but

more asleep, to get lost for but
a(nother) night
and I hide in her breathing,

my impregnable refuge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_______________

Photo: Fabien BOS, “Bedroom”