Listen!
THREE SLEEPS a sleep that wanders only as it has always wandered to the river unafraid of the current crossing strongly as a question crosses many answers on its way to satisfaction one that looks through old photos of those long ago buried on a hill to catch when the cold has locked the ground over them the snow in drifts that lie on gravebeds as covers and comforters the third sleep scolds: three sleeps! where one would do! its mind is on the insomniacs drifting far out on their boats of nerves the wind questions ceaselessly the third sleep knows it would give itself if it could no matter the distance would be a rope from the scarred horizon if rest were a rope