Here Room Sleeps


Here room sleeps, will come to sleep. A water
noise, sun come moon we live. Naked boy,
blond hair, his brother sleeps. Hear splash blue
turquoise glow flower send. Now arrives the
cold in heated vents and then heat. Slough of
the drawers and cotton. Ascend like green wind
glass evening moon. “Papa?”

Round dark room click sends resolve. Cold
wind soft against brick evens new noise on bed
cotton. Wool. New wool. Oxford cloth. Eyes lean
fleshy lives, thin worn pyjamas. A calm annex
clean resolved. Shift weight in starchy when
sleeves slight turn new. Here, awake, for now’s
new noon. Moony solvency, as like a system,
one might think. How to know, and lift, leaves.

This appeared in the June 2016 issue.

Dale Smith teaches English literature at Ryerson University.

SIGN UP FOR OUR NEWSLETTER. Get the weekly roundup from The Walrus, a collection of our best stories, delivered to your inbox. Learn More »

Elsewhere on TheWalrus.ca