NIGHT REST Poem by Menno Wigman

Evening. Two gardens further up spring is raging
and hijackers are stealing through the dark.
Somewhere nails are scrabbling for fur. Screechings
for crumbs of love. Badly mangled ears.
The randy hostilities of a spring night.

Almost forgotten how I with the selfsame rage
once hunted through the dark, how you still meaner
than a cat sunk your nails into three hearts.
How long ago that is and how lovely you still are.

I've counted the days one by one
and with the best words that I have:
I love you. In you I find a bed.

And it is spring and we are sharing here
the same night with all that that entails.