Sleep

is stillness paused in stone, 

the bronze cast of a posed god,  

Eros, whose face, limbs,  

have softened to childhood.  

It is the breath before prayer,  

a window staining its church 

with sacred light; or secular,  

a cashpoint glowing  

in a late night precinct.  

Sleep is air, the secrecy  

of a barn owl in flight;  

her pale pulse. It is the last gasp  

of smoke from a candle, blown  

for a wish; a seed puffed 

from its stem to stray beyond sight.