A private world

“The waking have one world in common;
sleepers have each a private world of [their] own.“ ~ Heraclitus

I've washed my hair in years, since.
Changed names, wore gold
And rubies too, half-believing
you so hesitant, would never dare
to jump through rings - without a fire. 

Ours was a trance like dance.
Spellbound by lines of cipher
And epistolic vows in rhyme
writ large in lemon juice, bitter
from the hot countries. 

Garlic never slew the vampire.
Just keeping it at bay
the soul rests easy. Until sleep. 
There are no amulets 
nor tri-fold spells can bar
these visitations of the night. 

My solitary bed
you indispose with restlessness 
Or wait for dreams to lull me 
stage by stage to torments.
REM is for remembering. 

A play is cast. Processing
characters round the board
twisting sinews of the heart.

Out of the Drafts and into the light for Open Link Night