JULY MORNING, TOO EARLY Poem by Lyn Lifshin


JULY MORNING, TOO EARLY Poem

JULY MORNING, TOO EARLY

 

almost night still. Insomnia

is more with me than any

lover. I could be on some

lovely lake in a tent of

sleeplessness. Nothing like

a child’s cove of dreams:

blue stars and shining

things hanging. No, we’re

in separate dented boats.

Who knows how they
could hold us. Only the

cat’s breath touches

mine. I haven’t felt what

I want to feel, what I

shouldn’t. If I cold just

reach out to touch you.

If I just did


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