"I toss in bed, awake in terror..."
I toss in bed awake in terror, -
My mistress now demands more time.
She calls me from a different era,
She sends me letters filled with rhyme,
On napkins and on scraps of paper,
On skin with ink, on flesh with sweat, -
I recognize her in my neighbor,
She, smiling, begs me: “Don’t forget.”
Her constant, faithful gaze is fixed
Each time I’m writing in my journal,
She lies beside me like a Sphinx,
And whispers to me of Inferno.
The more ignored the more relentless,
- What happened to the peace I knew? -
Before I can conclude a sentence,
She dictates variants anew.