Sleep Sleep - Anastasia Minster

Sleep

A pillow of cold rocks

A tight wooden box

A firm earthen bed

Dead child dead

A mouthful of sand

Tiny white hands

A young poplar root

Grasp my foot

But there, o there above

The swarm of flies drones

The beast once loved

Comes digging the bones

But no scream

The blue tongue curling numb

O, in that sleep

What dreams may come?

A place

Where no sun beams

The scattered dreams

The small broken birds

The songs unheard

A pillow of cold rocks

A tight wooden box

A firm earthen bed

Sleep, sleep, sleepyhead

Lyrics by Anastasia Minster