When I sleepwalk into your room, and pick you up, and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you.
The Book of Nightmares (ed. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1973) - ISBN: 9780395120989