Waking
Oh how I, sleep slighted, wish, nightly,
for green’s grace, granted, at dawn,
black’s gloom abated; morning pours,
first, lilac liquor, then, slowly, day-lily
liquid, till something stirs, half formal,
half stolen, sleep steeped, in the body,
before, coffee-ground or radio-waved,
I’m danced, puppetish, through a day.
But, in that twinkling, like a star
I’d pulse, all gravity, all light.