sleep away your wisdom

I lie there in the snow

freezing my palm to your palm

and squeezing every drop of gin

from my blood

that spelt impurity

but I can never get back

what I have lost

because I was out to lose it much too fast

if you were to join me here

in the dark overgrown garden of weeds

that forests my mysterious way

I could secretly ornate your hands

with daisies, winter daisies

and weave a chain of golden poppycock

dance on the grass outside

my sultry window

dance for your supper that lies cold by

the fire

as I clap and praise

in laud and honour

save yourself from the cruel light

of the daybreak

hide your head between my hot, white sheets

beneath my black night hair

and sleep away your wisdom

sleep away the morning that you could steal you

from me

if you were here to steal

 

[York, 1975]