Saturday, October 25, 2014

Reading in Bed by Marianne Boruch


Reading in Bed

I'm reading you a poem as you
fall asleep, smallest door inside
to the almost, not quite

cease to be, you and me,

what someone wrote closing
his eyes too, some
woods exactly where
no sound at all in the road
or a leaf, this
dream all along was here

and here you
come to: I _was_ listening—

the best way
to honor any poem, waking
up to it, I think.


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