3 OCTOBER 1970, Page 23

Hours of Waking

Midnight: no beast, no forest.

I a.m.: a small shape, Back turned, in a light sleep.

2: looks longingly, Stretches cold beside me. Suckers and coils ready.

3: is fifty-fingered, Has nails by the hundred, Smooth face that fills the bed, Itchy lips, loins humid.

4: bloating everything: Breathing, being there, being; Making doing, nothing, Feeling nothing: squeezing Thought into a thing.

5: is almost real, Almost an animal That prods with its muzzle, No more, while 1 lie still.

6: half human, Or half woman To my half man.

7: a hundred faces, All known, and known voices.

8: wife, lover, child.