TO SLEEP IN YOUR ARMS Poem by Henrik Nordbrandt

To sleep in your arms
is just as remarkable and beautiful
as being an imperial
birdhunter in a fairytale world
where all things have wings
and fly back and forth among themselves
because they think it is fun to fly
and because they love to be caught
and released again
so they can make good use of their wings
their scarlet and silver
and emerald-green and golden wings
in that fantastical violet dusk
where you lie beside me
like a starling that has fallen to earth
wet and rumpled, with your feathers
and eyelids glued shut by sleep's white poppy-glue.