Paradoxical Sleep

Paradoxical Sleep
We say the eye rests
On an object it loves.
It is a pretty
idea --the long, languid

gaze is blissfully
measured, like late Sunday
mornings, slept in – but
the eye is not still. In

reverence of
beautiful things, it dances
and widens its pupil
to welcome them in. It is

generous, that way.

It is also alert:
quizzical, challenging,
discerning, assessing.
Gathering and measuring

dimension and hue;
reversing the form, then
expertly righting it;
relishing all sides, and

stowing them away.
Later, enchanted
by mesmeric sleep,
the eye skims across the

shape and light of memory,

and —deftly,
undaunted—
fast-forward filters through
a thousand flashing

slideshows, searching for
that which it loves,
which it knows.
Fluttering wildly, like

rapturous birds.