He broke into our room
and laid on my bed as if he were dead,
bald angel blocking and shaping
the fragile light. I said: gently,
then he clambered on top of me. Disoriented
by the softness of his lips and the mental
image of his empty bed, I couldn’t believe
this was happening, so I started to talk.
That did not please him.
He got up and buried himself in his bed.
I had made him uncomfortable.
Perhaps, he thought I was afraid
he’d have an epileptic attack . My world
pyramided with grape baskets leaning
like the sea to my hands.