Page 128

Pallet G. Timothy Gordon

Sometimes, when too troubled By darkness, I wake from a dead sleep To a pallet of Moon. I know She has been lying beside me Again, in my bed, with nothing To be but beautiful, With nothing to speak or cede Or believe, weaving no night nuance Of Elavil and Seconal and Dalmane Druglove, only tracks of deeply-dreamtDreams who keep the sky quiet On the far side of night. Other sleepers must have felt her, Pressed on the low, flat, Western brim, grew against her, Moved as one.

128

Profile for Apeiron Review

Apeiron Review | Summer 2015  

The summer issue of Apeiron Review, a Philadelphia-based literary magazine, is ready for you and a glass of your favorite beverage. Cool off...

Apeiron Review | Summer 2015  

The summer issue of Apeiron Review, a Philadelphia-based literary magazine, is ready for you and a glass of your favorite beverage. Cool off...