Of Sleep

Sleep comes heavy
and my head free falls
into the pillow of your breasts,
buried all night
as your breath in waves
carries me to the shoreless sea
at the center of your chest,
there to sleep,
a quivering poem,
a dark seed
at the break of dawn
rising again,
a sun from amid your hills
parting the veils of the world
and writing its sky pure
with your breath for its skin,
your eyes for its boundless depth.

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