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infesting my half-sleep ...
did you enter my wound from another wound
brushing mine in a crowd ...
or did I snare you on my sharper edges
as a bird flying through cobwebbed trees at sun-up
carries off spiders on its wings?


running over my soul without sound,
only when dawn comes tip-toeing
ushered by a suave wind,
and dreams disintegrate
like breath shapes in frosty air,
I shall overhear you, barefoot,
scatting off into the darkness ...
I shall know you, secrets
by the litter you have left
and by your bloody footprints.