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Night Around My Sleep

Peter J. Harris 
night around my sleep throbs with prayer
	visit me daddy
after five years out of body
tell me anything from eternity
six hours of sleep can contain
my young boy stubbornness has leavened
into grown man self-reliance
pick up where we left off in December 93
I will listen with hungry serenity
surprise you with 100 proof curiosity

	visit me
now I lay me down to sleep
	visit me
I pray my father's circle complete
	visit me daddy

I am no mystery to you
you already know I give the finger to
Smirnoff Vodka billboards on my commute to work
I felt you standing beside me in Trader Joe's
when I said no to a bottle of Sangria as I bled
from the scalpel of loneliness sticking out of my ribs
your loving whisper quenches my thirst for family
when I count like a string of cowries each of the 3,000 miles
I live away from our Stomping Grounds

fit me into your timeless calendar
I need this anniversary as much as I need
to hear your knock on my door

like on those unscheduled Saturday mornings in Maryland
when your jar of decaf Sanka was the only stimulant in my 
	kitchen cabinets
after your Beltway drive from Temple Hills to Silver Spring
you never drank a full cup of coffee during your visits
tonight journey from your place in the All 'n All & slip 
	behind my eyelids
brew completion we can steep & sip & savor
one cryptic vision will reinvent me
one jump cutting story from before I was born
will have me kicking blankets to the floor
press into me the news in death
tongue tied circumstances kept from me in life
I want to memorize your unspoken voice soon as my eyes 
	close good
	scold me

suck your teeth & say I told you so
	praise me
hum Mahalia & hug me against your last goatee
	school me
twist your wedding band & unfold the quilt of compromise

wade toward me along the banks of the James River
sit with your drinking buddies in that 62 black & white Dodge
steer your truck full of lawn mowers into my third eye
flash that sly grin gave me permission at 18 to say motherfucker 
	around you
wear a flannel shirt with a fresh deck of Bicycle
playing cards peeking out the breast pocket
stand with steam rising from the naked skin you no longer need
like you stepping out a cool shower on an August weekend in D.C.
	suburb

	visit me
show me the first steps of the dance ma taught you
when she welcomed you to the waiting room of Paradise
	tuck me in with a silent lullaby
I will sing it whenever I sleepwalk
I will sway to it whenever I stumble
in the frightening hopes of the rest of my orphaned life
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