I tried to cling to
Traces of ink
Secretly read
Into the dark space
Behind the bed-head
Grand and tiny words
Loosely coupled
Sometimes they fight
Their war means nothing
Over the bearing
Of your silent night
I feel crazy now
Like a warrior
Raising in the morning
From her battlefield
To see it was merely
Her own war of night
What would the warrior do?
She would shake her head
And apologize to all those
She had beheaded
In her rapture
On the battlefield
Of a silent night
Would she?
Would she?
