Pillows into Dark

In every shadow, I said No
to sleep, to that predation,
those fields of breaks.

When I finally
folded myself
into the bed, unholy
knifed my body
from its desperate
restraints, I was wake-
licked, sheet-spun
to the wall opposite.

For hours I lay
beneath the clear
rhetoric of moon
with my tired
absolutes. Imitated myself
as I said that uneven No,

my serrated morsel.
That answer grasped
my hips. Night:
the yank of it.

Outside, the mountains rose
and I eased
at last, before day broke
to its material. Before
it cleaned its feathers. And No,
I said. And I agreed.