A Dream of a Dream of Night

dreamed 1960s by Robert Watson.

Night won't leave me alone when I worn down By Day who whips me through his hoops, his watch In hand, when I undress for bed to read In peace alone, Night pesters the door knob, Stuffs sweet scented pollen under the sill, And rubs her lips on my window whispering, "Come out. Come out. I'm raring to go." "No. It's too late. I'm tired. No. No." "Please come out. We'll make love under my stars." "Leave me alone. I've got a wife and child." "You coward, they can't see you in my dark." There was no right answer I could make to Night Except to leave the front door light burning. I locked doors and windows tight, drew shades, Too tired for yielding or not yielding. It was late when I thought Night had gone. When I fell in bed it was nearly dawn, But under the bed clothes I felt a form, Hair that was not Margery's on my cheek, Stiff black hair across my mouth. "It's me. Come on," Said Night, "I love you with all my soul." And fell upon me like ten tons of coal.