In the middle of the night
You move and murmur in your sleep
Strange whispers of mischief
Of a child caught in a shell-shocked dream.
And I, awake and fixed
Hours after the breathing, the fumbling
The sweat, the meanings
Slowly evaporate, desires
Lived and shared in a narrow space.
And the boundaries are redrawn.
This breast is mine; this shoulder yours
This hand mine and this thigh yours.
I recollect my limbs.
Is this jealousy I feel
That having given all to you
None is mine?
The silence of your sleep
Mocks; calls me names;
Makes me a bride-for-the-moment
And all I have to give
A mistake of the night.