You shake like you’re climbing a rope:
pulling yourself up
out of a pit, scrabbling
on its blackmoss walls.

I wake, chased by Alsatians
while a fireball splits the sky
and races for the horizon –
a line I’ll never see.

You wake. You tease the sweat
from my caked hair; you the carrier
of our future, the drift
of my duvet’s hills and glens.

I make origami of our beddings:
a floating swan to swim us
down the river,
to choose a harbour.

Very Good! Really like it, the metaphorical gubbins is very nice :thumbsup: