Dormir

He flutters with his ashtray
like sands wandering down the gallows
too crept to seize the attorney
too digested to adhere to new days

He alleviates the safest parting, these,
for glory buckets in tired iron curtains
so said for what wasted journeys
too reluctant to start back to tomorrow

He did not waste these patterns
on some ice cube tray or morning hymn
but rested and found a soft spot
for remagnetized displacement
and tattered through the golden bough
mother’s last song for years of acquaintance