The moon in the bureau mirror looks out a million miles. (And perhaps with pride, at herself, but she never, ever smiles.) Far and away beyond sleep or perhaps she's a daytime sleeper, by the universe deserted, she'd tell it to go to hell! She'd find a body of water or a mirror on which to dwell. So wrap up in care, in a spiderweb and drop it down the wall. Into that world inverted where left is always right, where the shadows are really the body. Where we stay awake all night, where the heavens are shallow as the sea is now deep and you love me.
