The Realm of Morpheus
by Shawn Allen
Sitting on the edge of the bed
tears barely held back from the flood;
without looking up, she asked,
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
My nervous pacing stopped
my need to place words to page quelled
for this moment, I turned and
kneeling before her, took her hands.
“You have shared this bed a long time, now,
and of all should know my queer ways.
My sleep comes in fractions and shards,
in our bed my feet dance, my lips sing.
Then I wake with my head full of words,
conversations and arguments.
People and places and dances –
grand cities and foul architectures.
I know where the faerie bury their dead,
and the location of Alexander’s helm.
I have seen an Atlantean wedding dance
and watched sacred Mu fall into the seas.
When I wake, with the taste of strange wine
on these lips, I must capture it all
before it becomes lost again, before all these
unknown things dance back into the dreaming.
You ask, my love, do I sleep? I say to you,
yes, and no; never, ever. No.”
And standing, I walked from that room
to take up paper and pen in another.
(c) Shawn D. Allen.