Too cold to sleep,
alone, waiting to be warmed.
Time moves so slowly it
catches itself, then stops
a curling ribbon of all these nights
before critical eternity.
Backwards I watch myself
alone with the rain falling in.
Drowning rivulets of opened sky
as I am.
Children sleep, out beyond this small
enclosure a grey domed sky,
there is no sentiment, nothing at all
except, time: twisting itself to laugh.
Speeded up skin flakes to dust. No change.
Quiet with cold’s fingers tangled in my hair.
I leave my mind alone to spin back upon
times cross, I slowly move beyond .