Poem 272

Our mystery selves in the deep hours …

… title from the Maurice Sendak picture book …

Night Kitchen

Why are you up so late
at a window in a chair
unsleeping in the darkness
what are you thinking
                                         nothing
nothing
or something undescribed
all Rimbaud's repulsive delicious things
day-hidden spreading beneath your hair
shaken out now
in the night's grooming
so secret
                  so serious
for once there is nothing of we

I close my eyes at a movement
who is it
that slips back into bed with me?