Thom Gunn

 


The Man with Night Sweats

I wake up cold, I who 
Prospered through dreams of heat 
Wake to their residue, 
Sweat, and a clinging sheet. 

My flesh was its own shield: 
Where it was gashed, it healed. 

I grew as I explored 
The body I could trust 
Even while I adored 
The risk that made robust, 

A world of wonders in 
Each challenge to the skin. 

I cannot but be sorry 
The given shield was cracked, 
My mind reduced to hurry, 
My flesh reduced and wrecked. 

I have to change the bed, 
But catch myself instead 

Stopped upright where I am 
Hugging my body to me 
As if to shield it from 
The pains that will go through me, 

John Ashbery

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