Saint Lucia

   
   
If the night is a thief  
What does it steal?  
Lost sleep, tossed and turned,  
To things that go bump in the fright  
Some of us are nocturnal  
And see more clearly in the dark  
 
Not I.    
 
I go to bed when evening comes  
I cannot stand to think  
Of the wingless angels just out of sight  
I do not wish to know them  
But they Know Me  
They watch over as I slumber  
Prodding and poking with long fingers  
An uneasy massage    
The cycle is not to be broken--  
Once undone it unravels  
Trailing down the hall  
Through the emptied doorway  
 
Tender is the night  
Lit by oil lamp light  
Like muscle, soft sinews and string  
Moving closer, then farther  
Gasping grasping jowls  
An increased metabolic consumption  
That breaks my fast in the mourning