sleepless in the eyes of the blind
she gazes at the ceiling
lit by the light of distant factories
looking at how the obwebs
twine
themselves
making dream baskets in the corners
that everything passes
through
like so much water
because nothing sees
but the sun
in its place
like the incredible pupil
of a deep blue eye
everhungry

to be sleeping
out from under glass
breathing once again
in moist satin shadow
where everything is manual
where there is something
more to do than
suff.o.cate