Sleepless nights/
bathed in the
computer screen's glow/

Poet, Sleepless nights,
like knives held close
to poets' throats

Naked
against the night
Naked
against the poems

Naked
against the images that scream
inside
the mind

.... to rub your neck
and your shoulders
as you sit sleepless
at your computer screen
in the night /

… to kiss
gently
the sensitive spot,
where your neck
gently becomes your shoulder /

...Wrapped in nothing but a towel
so late in the night.

… there is candlelight

… there is wine

.... and the perfection of jazz

Could my hands
ease your towel
off as I stood
silently
behind you?

Could my hands
find
the perfection
of your body
so late
and so hard
in the night?

Poet, I sip wine
on sleepless nights

and think of you
existing
just the other side
of my computer screen

Bathed in candlelight, I allow myself
fantasy.

Bathed in candlelight, I allow myself
desire.

Bathed in candlelight,
I allow myself
whispers,
and words,

and journeys
into the city …


Lifeboats of 'poem'
magically appear

… though always
throughout my life
they haven't

Sometimes the seas stayed quiet, and alone.

Sometimes the seas
stayed merciless.

~

I must go.

I will write again soon.

Please, too, write
when you have a chance /
your words
are like fingers
massaging
my body



SAS