A Stolen Sleep

having slept next to
someone for ten years
my sleeping body hates
being alone in the dark

so much so that I only
have sex with people to
be able to snatch sleep
from a strangers shape

my boundaries no longer
the edges of my single
skin but four lungs of
synchronised dreaming's
trembled feeling along

a stitch of nervous cells
two interlocking question
marks hinging on the full

stops of morning grammar
the loner and the lonely lie
in the wink of a closed eye
spoken from a stolen sleep.




John G.Hall (c)2006