Josephine Dickinson, “Do I Sleep With You?”

Do I sleep with you or you with me?
It’s splitting hairs to say I came to you
and use your brush and comb, and therefore we
don’t “sleep together.” But it may be true.
In any case, I say you sleep with me.
The action’s mostly yours. You made me stay.
Made staying perfect, future and to be.
Apart from that, it’s what most people say.
Tributaries join rivers, but they mix,
go to somewhere, neither cares to where.
Both stand and swell their bank beside a tree.
They’re not concerned with any verbal tricks.
So, say I joined your river, if you dare.
In any case, I say you sleep with me.

From Slience Fell, the American debut collection from Josephine Dickson, which, drawing upon several volumes published in the UK, tells the story of her marriage to a Cumbrian sheep farmer who was more than twice her age when they met.

1 April 2007 | poetry |