Poetry 1

I Will Sleep for You

where others might profess to die for their love
for you, I sleep
committing hours to dreams
nascent snoring, creaking bedposts
I will lie on sagging mattresses, tossing, turning
for hours unresponsive
to your touch, tactile
warm breath, your actual, literal presence
slumbering for you, for us, our love, I will sleep
for you I will dream
a walk in the park where we both bludgeon each other with shovels
a burnt baby I tossed off the roof that you catch below, cackling with the fire
a chance meeting on the corner with my own childhood nemesis whose gift of ice cream
ends with me in the slammer doing time

and insist you listen intently to every detail
I don’t know why I was in the backseat of the car
wearing a sweater from high school where the polyester had balled up
the cat was hacking up hair balls,
I think there was a theme of balls

while others might profess their love
imagining no mountain high
no valley deep, no river, whatever the problem is with rivers
could keep us apart,
to you I commit
my 229, 961 hours
stage three, REM, my theta waves
I give them all to you

—Melissa Anderson