cavatica

impossible to sleep
when I'm full of distant who-knows-whens
nostalgic and undrowsy
curled, bare-legged, in fabric arms--
the only ones who'd have me--
submerged in sultry rhythms
of melodic retrospection:
strangers all, untouchable

so I must make my own lullabies
spun from purest gray;
far too many voices
to fill these gaping memories
swallowed whole, unsavored
and eyes made dry from staring at reflections
of nothing much to see

I wish for love now
and hands that aren't my own;
for heat in winter
curled-toed and happy
in these fleeting days of half-light--
half-life--
and these icy nights unending