Planning the Escape

In the evening when I have settled
ashen-faced and clean after the ablutions
at the end of the day,

I call on the angels,
ask for their guardian presence
as I pull my covers close as downy prayers.

I will bloom in my stary dreaming this night.
Poppies and snow are at peace there,
and I always carefully finger the locket
filled with my lover's voice.

Swindler of all kindness,
weave me into the night.
Make me invisible
to all but the one I adore.

Whisper the plan of our lifetime of escapes.

I will be at the door of the garden
tapping like a ghost who knows all the names
by which you were ever called.