coo

stirring dreams, moving
mania; our eyes are closed
as the clock rings through.

fingers become sheets
washed so well. last night we made
the bed, all naked.

today its unmade.
time is singing out, but we
pretend it's silent.

with eyes still shut you
touch the fragile morning with
'five more minutes, love.'

tonight we will drink
wine from the bottle, or box,
music on the tongue--

water down the red,
before, just un café
et une cigarette

and why should we not?
wake up to the tangled wind
because we are here.

five minutes have passed.
still fast asleep. still asleep.
we can't say goodbye

if you refuse to
wake up. we both know you're here
to pull my stitches

out one by one. but
you do not see that it's done.
i have ripped them out.

wake up now to say
goodbye. 'five more minutes, love'
have passed. it is time.