I drink fragrant coffee and feel it swill
into my bones, something is coming
unstuck at my seam, falling
open, like the night does, parting
for the light at each end, rose
gumming up its spine, a dawn
that fringes the yawning blooms,
and to the little boughs that blossom and shed
and still arc thick up to the light
I ask, how can I swallow my dreams
and keep them still where they are
trembling
in the night's black belly?