Stug Jordan - Slumbers

A night-time of secret insomnias burn
in the streets’ windows,
fatigued artefacts of the dead day gone,
faces in a bathe of lamps

twisted in awkward pretence of sleep,
playing dead as the day
animates the night’s genuine dead;
office faces, overalls,

fresh out of the nakedness dreams
and ignorant of when
that coldness soothes the earth
before the day breaks.

Stug Jordan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slumbers/