B9_Tumor

Sleepless at night,
I steal from our bed to back patio,
scale the wood plank fence,
walls of our sanctuary,

to perch on the roof right above where you slumber,
wrapped tight in down and cottons;
I sing lullabies to the stars of your hazel eyes
fluttering under soft, translucent lids.

With tilted head, I listen for celestial refrains,
cosmic sonnets, and arias accompaniment.

The sound of atonal crickets, syncopated frogs, and
the ambient rumble of a distant civilization,
it is all.

Laying down, I press my ear against the roughened roof,
and divine your nocturnal melodies from below.

Soft sighs drift up through cobwebbed rafters
and gritty shingles to my ears and mouth.

I taste your dreams like snowflakes on my tongue.