The empty air
was inside him now
and sleep a half-
remembered folk song
from a far-off tribe,
the mysterious Awake.

2.
What to do
with all this music?
Hang by a thread
then cut the thread?

3.
Nyet. No good.
The dark no comfort.
The glass teeters on the edge.
Yesterday afternoon
a plate fell and did not break.
Hold onto that.
Still hope in the hands.

4.
Sleep elusive maiden
in this wood with so few trees,
all her names
shadows of the still unfallen leaves.

5.
We can close our eyes
but not our ears.
But he has eyes in the mind
he cannot close.
Listen to the dark, then,
brother, the sneers of sleep.

11 October 2021