WEAVING FIBERS DURING HIS WATCH
Argus watches, traces my night dance soaring above ground
(I cannot find you
It is night
How is it you know I am dancing)
You tenderly make patterns cut from silent kisses in my night
(I cannot read in the dark
It is night
I need white to find the shapes)
Inside grey whirring machines are sounds of a heart beating
(Must be Argus!
I cannot swear to this
Yet certain I can hear his rhythm)
Argus reasons, "There is a steadfast order to the daylight."
(I never knew this fact
Why if this is dawn
Am I surrounded by invisibles)
You transfuse me with words and my senses sparkle
(I know something is alive
It is day and
I cannot find the wellspring)
Gifts to me is that you are:
My night ghost that is black; My day ghost that is white
Must be Argus!
(I cannot watch like him. I grope through dark and light.)
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