And it is from my imperfection

That I turn love into foe in a day

It is the rage that sleeps in my belly

Like a beast ready to be awakened – even by a teasing hiss

Ready to be foresaken

Ready to be mistaken

For love in the dawn and at dusk foe once more

It is from my imperfection

That I wish to hug my scars tightly

And kiss my scabs to sleep

Stone you to bed,

My darkest knight

And sometimes still…

I can barely breathe long enough

To separate my dawn from dusk

Split my friend from foe

And how could I?

…Recognise when either of you had awakened to strike

Or awakened to stroke

this timeless horizon within myself

Of the next door neighbours called

Sheep and Wolf