fragrance of sleep drift
this easily through
rooms – as though
your resting had keys to
every chamber whose
open doors i
cannot step
through – i lie
alert & breathe spareroom
breath & in
my shell
form you warm &
close who slumber
farther from sense than
i dont know
what? – perhaps that
shape a world might
have or
a home
if it woke from sleep &
walked

Supported by Arts Council England