2
" Your gravity, your grace have turned a tideIn me, no lunar power can reverse;But in your narcoleptic eyes I spiedA sightlessness tonight: or something worse,A disregard that made me feel unmanned.Meanwhile, insomniac, I catch my breathTo think I saw my future traced in sandOne afternoon " as still, as carved, as death,”And pray for an oblivion so deepIt ends in transformation. Only dawnCan save me, flood this haunted house of sleepWith light, and drown the thoughts that nightly warn:Another lifetime is the least you’ll need, to traceThe guarded secrets of her gravity, her grace. "