In the Sanatorium - Momus

In the sanatorium

I’ve booked a private room

Where you can feel at home

Where we can be alone

Just you, the nurse and me

In mountain scenery

All the time that you’ve been ill

Your face has looked so pale

Drained by the force of will

Drained by the wait until

My treatment makes you well

Or weaker still

Half in love with easeful death

I cloud the mirror with your breath

Half in love with this disease

That keeps you close to me

Your eyes grow heavy as I read

'The Immoralist' by André Gide

Fall asleep my sickly darling

Rest in peace

Men you used to know declare

Their most sincere desire

To travel here and share

The treatment you require

Their letters saying they care

Are on the fire

As I interrupt the muslin

Hanging round the bed

I wake you with the rustling

And you raise your head

And ask again, your voice uncertain

If you’re not a burden

I wonder, as I watch you sleep

If this possessive streak

Will make me force my love

Or if the trick is cheap

And if you took your drug

And if you’re deep enough asleep

(For love will endure or not endure regardless of where we are)