after Jacques Roubaud, with a line by Sylvia Plath
I'm still awake.
I walk in darkness
as if this sidewalk, by
its floodlight burgled
from a rich woman's toilet or the
last penny pinched from a
is the ibis
of the present spectacle--primeval, antique.
crickets sweep the evening
daybreaks squeak into exhausted brassieres
and this darkness in which I walk
cowers before the brightness of an all-night pharmacy,
where a sapling, twice a tree
for trying to be, promises itself to pavement.
"sleeplessness has its own very pleasant reward."