Leaving in Sleep

The words don’t stop just because the F train
is coming. The east river at dusk is melted bullet,
helicopter choppy and grey.

Lisa Hannigan, you goddess. You siren,
sing me to sleep while Miriam studies
with her desk lamp a lighthouse for the hopeful.

Kate, sweet Kate, I’m slow but I’m loyal.
Simple, simple, simple,
we see two different oceans.

Someone hid the scissors.
Music plays, moonlight is spilt
milk on hammock hung between tree
and chain link fence.

You are a reminder,
each button a victory.

Open as an anemone,
I listen to hear
who’ll move first.

Another boat sets sail tonight,
another captain’s cupboard
whiskey decanter,

crystal decanter.
The wedding in Virginia,
the guests in all white.

The bars guard the neighbors;
their living room palm trees,
tibetan prayer flags, and
central air conditioners.

The words don’t stop for Harlem,
or Dublin, or Italy either.
My pen is a ship,
my paper the sea.

Sing me to sleep
sweet siren song,

wake me
when whales’ backs
can be seen.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Poetry, travel. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Leaving in Sleep

  1. “My pen is a ship,
    my paper the sea.

    Sing me to sleep
    sweet siren song,”

    Masterfully written, my dear. Beautiful words! I love it!

  2. peter says:

    my pen is a ship
    my paper the sea.

    its a wonderful expression. i really enjoy reading your stuff. its like a butterfly in springtime. soft colorful and easy. keep it up girl. your friend. peter

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