Dear Voyeur,

                                                "I have slept with your dreams,"
                                                you wrote.   Then tell me—tell me
                                                what it is that I need so badly
                                                to forget.   And what need, also,
                                                has brought you to sip my dreams,
                                                what lack.   Do you not fear it?
                                                Have you not thought you may
                                                Alice into this kaleidoscope, this
                                                tunnel of diminishing fractals,
                                                forgotten by all you have loved?
                                                Already I lie sleepless, fearing
                                                to wake with my lips cracked,
                                                bleeding with kisses goodbye.