Let Them Sleep

Eyes closed as in sleep

is what we want to hear.

We almost see (we want to see) eyelids flicker:

that crazy-cliché spark of life.

We know we’re real the second smells of life arrive;

the spurt of smiles and recognition

half from saving human life

and half from an assertion of our own.

So now let’s sleep

whenever morphine dulls the unrepentant,

God-bright lights beckon,

clumsy bony fingers clasp

begetting Holy frissons:

let us sleep.