11-6-2008 Weatherby gets you in the end with the 27% interest rate

Hold not my face so firmly. It must leave
you when you slumber. Though your dreams may hang
a mirror mask on tangled stones, it cleaves
as close to me as names, that minstrels sang

in torch-lit halls, approached spear-splintered fields.
So sleep my lord. So sleep my love. Curl not
your lips. Trade not a daggered glance. I yield,
by debt and duty, to return each spot

of starlight to the night. A moment’s toil -
the dawn widens its stenciled door, and I
am with you once again. The seconds coil
around us as the day unravels sky.

So hold my nostrils, earlobes, cheeks and brow
impending evening will not find us now.