V.123

I am the window into space –
The inconceivable clatters
through me, loud like a wood shutter
banging the pebbles from the walls

The window is dark and hangs there
over my bed like a dark bed
for ghosts, who hang invisible
eyes rotating until they see.

Over the forest of my form
flow duvet clouds, and I relax
as the warm envelops my feet
and my thoughts fall into rhythm

in the way that a ball falls in
to the slot on an old roulette
and spins until the crowd can tell
red or black. And then I can sleep.

On another day I see you
on a blue galactic background
pricked by a field of tiny green
stars. You hang there, over my bed

flow over me like clouds and I
relax. Your mouth holds me in place
your voice scatters me about like
smooth pebbles dashed from a bright wall

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