a night with slight awakenings

I breathe in spite of myself

caught up in impossible longings


tall grass smooth beside my legs,

wheat like an inland sea

and if we lie down together

we will float on the surface of a dream


stalks of wheat

closing overhead

earth-scent rising

to hover upon our lips


like hunger

like waiting

like listening to the wind at dawn


those small ripples of forgetting

sadder, even,

than this ineffable night

or a simple separation


Susan Smith Nash

October 12, 2001