You open a window on a deep and heavy sleep
Stretched out
Like a decorative cross-beam
The cat turns its gaze upon a Taurus splintered by the window
screen
In the night nothing much is on the move
The park benches are completely superfluous
The lamps in the distance resemble an eyelash from the realm of dreams
The sailors and sirens nestle against the hem of a river
If there be a god then let him sleep
The world has but one room, one window left
You breathe
With the pace of a mourner
Orderly and somber
If there be a god then let him sleep
Through the torpid night