I have seen him change in his sleep,
that ancient DNA kicking in
as he dreams of lying prone
on a hot, flat rock in an endless desert.
His skin thickens briefly,
or his tongue thrills from his mouth
like a party favour.
He is happiest then, and I,
a giddy insomniac,
am happiest watching him,
stroking his fine argent hair,
shielding his face from the hidden cameras.
No comments:
Post a Comment