Sleeping Time

One tonne in every year
it pounds me out
that heavy slab of concrete you call
love

Head made of straw
I can easily send it in a cascade
to the floor
and the wheat still stuck in earth
we yank it out
curl our fingers at the root and
pull them squeeking loose

And in the evening winter arrives
with his heavy sigh
head laced with straw and promise
an embrace becomes enough
to snuff me out

One tonne in every year
it draws me out
that rusty pipe
that funnel pushing hands together slowly
until they clasp

One tonne in every year
it chokes me out
I swallow chains
they clank and crack spine
collect like stones in the drop of my stomach

My skin evaporates
and I am disillusioned
My tickling bones bruise easily
shrewdness will fish me out
until I hold the candle snuffer