Doe Bones

Doe bones,
how you budge in your sleep,

your anxious ghosts
stirring in your mind,

your tendons constrict and release,
sudden, small flinching.

And you sigh, a pinkish moan,
as if a horsehair drawn

across your throat.
In tender dark, streaks

of halogen laying
across the blankets,

I will pull you tighter,
twin stars orbiting,

and creak a tale in your ear.
Let the words cascade and blur

into whatever machine
makes sleep—may your quick breath

soften and as I whisper
through these clouds

of your jasmine hair,
may the casual

movements of our bodies become
the melody of your dreams.