The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself
but she never, never smiles)
Far and away beyond sleep, or
perhaps she’s a daytime sleeper.

By the universe deserted,
she’d tell it to go to hell,
and she’d find a body of water,
or a mirror on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well.

Into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow is the sea
is now deep, and you love me.