whisper to sleep

Hush, voice
Your tiredness is in my throat
Your softness at my ear
Almost inaudible.
You deny
The possibility of a blurry similarity
The possibility
Of humanity’s inkling:
Attention must be paid—
It is necessary.
In the gathering dawn
Hush, voice
Ignore that rasping whisper
That weary wrinkle of crestfallen cords
The disappointed murmur
Of acceptance.
Hush, voice
Away from the world of waking!
On to oblivion,
Where you can lisp slippery syllables
Until a glass-soled slipper
Worn on the pale foot of dawn
That chimes like silver bells—until with a soft crumbling,
It breaks.