unable to sleep
amid all the salt and the racket
(sleep belongs to the dead)
even the rose-coloured apples
are carnival-starved
(sadness is a prerequisite for
dancing) like grape-fuelled
lightning (like winter
may wait)
nothing perishes nothing persists the ceiling
swirls in a red maze
I eat and hold hands over my billowing dress
couples slouch off together
pale little ones and big ones in heavy colours
a rasping chill of voices that circle and dive
(thank you for smashing it—and thank me too!)
during my levity moths and moments die and slink away
no one speaks the unbreakable word
no
while I say nothing
morning lights itself