You sleep and the overdrawn shape of your folded
 up body is sketched as a study of a body
  on the bright sheets.
Behind fingerprinted glass one moon internecine sweeps away your star
  holding misty in the indigo dark and all the
rethoric attached who rule
untold the sky, reachable

cosmic snuff hanging over the innocent who sleeps,
whom betrayed was.

You sleep, the cheated one. And I try to recall the pact I never signed, to
 never desire any other woman
  beside you.
But I am not your husband! I feebly argue.

I dont recall the agreement. Some bodies
 signed it for me time before. It was
  about the first ouch, the swift probe, the first
eye touch interchanged.

No sleepless can
catch the world better than the sleeper.

I imagine your luminous eyes
 behind the lids, dark as your body,
  boasting your dreams, extending your arms over
  mysterious surfaces, fuzzy to touch, failing about
  surface your body undercovered
slap my face, knock over my grimace

I betrayed you, and getting back home I said
 to myself: what a bourgeois lame person I am!
  but that cry, was only after I
  changed my clothes, washed my hands,
my face and neck of the other's perfume --

Because I knew you would have hugged me,
clasped me getting back home.

Sleep, my dear. I will betray you again,
 love you again.
  I will lay sleepless watching you asleep again,
  the book opened upside down on my belly,
my face tilted sideways pointed at you,

as you change the world
 asleep.