I wish for the sleep of a babe,
A newborn child,
Its sweet, short snooze.
I’d even steal it, if need be,
To luxuriate in the peace of no memories–
Clear of half-bakering schemes,
Cropping up for businesses,
Or even poems.
I want to sleep among the puffy whiteness
Of a fresh-made crib of one too young to think.
No dreams, just slumber.
Yes, yes, yes.
No, no, no, oh no!
Had I forgotten?
Modern times say no more buntings,
Now it’s a plain