For U + Z
Sometimes, in this, my winter, the fall of sunlight across my face
Recalls a summer more lovely than has ever been, or will.
And then all night I heard it, a rattle from the road
From some loose drain as the cars passed over;
It couldn’t interrupt my sleep, because I had none,
Lying there, waiting for the light and birds to come.
I had no idea what this wakefulness might portend,
This endless restless attention to detail, sleepless;
My whole life spent trying to understand
The fractured meaning of objects, and my
Dreadful inclusion amongst them. Oh, our stupid whim
To run away, to flee this specific and ordered world,
And be vanquished, ravished, like light or birds,
And welcome the morning through their undying hymn.

Nicholas Worskett