I Am Going To Sleep

Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew, hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse, prepare the earthly sheets for me and the down quilt of weeded moss. I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed. Set a lamp at my headboard; a constellation; whatever you like; all are good: lower it a bit. Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through . . . a celestial foot rocks you from above and a bird traces a pattern for you so you'll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request: if he telephones again tell him not to keep trying for I have left . . .