Two Sleeping Tigers

I, the living high-wave amplitude
of sleep disturbance, disturb thee,
my sweet imperfect beauty,
in coughs and sputters
and whoring whirls of ache.
You stir as you hear my sick heart
quicken, hear thunder in eyes that blink
You mutter meek slumber sounds, not a purr,
dreaming of antelope and emu, the great wide plain,
wheels spinning round and round

Soft, hot-soaked meanders of tangled blankets,
cloud banks of knawing pairs, you and I,
we are unruly emotions, unbinding in rules,
tossing in the shallow sleepy deeps
of a dark world imploding, spinning apart,
quaking in the volcano`s molten cone

When I awake before dawn
I kiss thyne eyes
and crawl upon the hearth
a stalking Romeo on misfit earth

There are no little lies in you,
nothing I can find but innocence
and periodic mists of bottomless brood
As you dream, I scheme, scour the earth
for sign of the easiest meatiest meat

Now I rise, being way too careful, remote
and tiptoe out the door and into the heat
having learned how to leave you alone
to let you grow and gather those old woes
for a circle of stones, minding the bad omens
alerting you to self-fulfulling stars, finding
you inert as a lunar eclipse, parched dry lips

And now I, in undying low-wave longitude, long,
lie down, weary and old, grimmacing the hyper-manic
hunt for enduring truth, running from imagined angst
and for this I am grateful, for this I give thanks
for my still strong growl, but still hoping
for a soft purr, a paw, a little tiger smile,
good spirits, good humor, good love
and abundance to last a Serengetti mile