When doors don't protect and don't let out; when windows
Stare, in stupor, at the world of walls; when the ceiling
Stealthily descends upon the floor to squeeze evenings,
Half-blind, in a stifling tomb of lonely sleeping;
When sleeping is tiresome in a clutch of blankets;
When my days are leaking through the holes of my dreaming:
Dreaming of us both, split just by skin, just the meaning
Of words, just by dreaming -- I am almost empty.