Day and Night
When you were dead to me, the living turned
To ghosts, became a bunch of gibbering sounds
And movements day by day. The living churned
Around me on the streets and on my rounds
Of work and food, and even through my bed.
But they were just pollution in the air,
Brief chills, or stains left lying by my head.
The world was crowded, yet … no one was there.
Nor could I kill you off in sleep, my love.
At night you lived and filled my life again.
My mouth woke every dawn to call your name,
And nights you rose from depths to dreams above.
My every sleep sang out the one refrain
Of ache and curls–and nothing was the same.