Few Pages

(5 Jan 2008, 06:17)

few pages left, pages read while still dark
waiting for the teapot's steam puffs

few pages left growing warmer,
sleep, sleep, sleep little pages,

few pages soaked in few sounds, small things to grow out
of these days.

early as quiet night-scurriers, pages wait and be seen.

these few pages served slow, theirs is the dawn's
welcoming winter, as it checks for a green dot,
it'd witness someone's there, but no, little pages, know
it's still dark.

rolling a cigarette: the teapot's calling
for me to pour more in my cup,
the six o'clock update, the green dot that's not there,
it's only plunged into those pages, peace,
a few left to this night's becoming light,
As a chanceful falling of vest-string, revealing
skins stripped, bare light unseen's there.

as noon will speak, we'll be almost there already,
back in those cover days, when
under was game, under a covenant of silence
we'll be back in the long sleep, little pages,
bear on once more, by the time it's dawn again
someone's call, steam out of teacups,
and be read again, but sleep, now, know
it's still dark.

Halvhari