A wild sleep, A nightmare. Or a dream that doesn't make sense yet.

I want to see you standing there again.
In the morning,
in your kitchen, next to the sink.
The sunlight would glint off the stainless steel
and you would wind your spindly fingers
around the handle of your white coffee mug--
No sugar, just a hint of milk--
and smile like the dawn,
wrapped up in your pink bathrobe,
hair wild as the wildest
sleep.