THE DOG SLEEPING ON MY SLEEP
Poetry
Late, the hours tremble in The dark before dawn light.
The night is at its length;
I move further into my forms.
The known weight of the dog Bends down to touch me, even here. Curled against my legs He is the darkness and solid shape.
His loyalty is a roof, mine a Dark trust. We are with the world.
There are such worlds, sleeping,
In each of us.
ROBERT GIBB