Sleep
Sleep in its rounded mound,
soft and ashy.
Feathers of the unformed,
ample to fill a pillowcase
then blow out from its seams
the indentation of the head that never was.
Sleep
is summons reneged. That drowsy
finger, charcoaled,
smears off the first letter
of its autograph,
or its soft powder
fills in the impression.
Elizabeth Robinson