When it is night
and the moon is drifting
across the darkened sky
like an illuminated lifeboat,
you pass with it
through the sea
where there is no border to its vacancy,
only the limitless light
the smattering of stars bring,
scattering their punctured points in the abyss.
Nightime in sea mist
no ships visible under this
Roaming the wilderness of falling fragments,
you catch the moon’s reflection in undulation
like a wayward cloud adrift on its own,
you lay in a bed of reflections
watching the ceiling mirror reveal the naked form
of stars being born
in courtyards of abandon
streaked in derelict palaces,
the forbidden places you know so well.
Soon the night caved in
the broken panes of sleep
fractured over the course of a minute
that felt like an eternity of breathing.
Deep sleep in a night of no alarms
rain-glistened and no longer weeping,
the canopy was your ceiling,
the sky, another dimension of skin,
where the jungle ends and space begins.