The Edge of Sleep, a poem

The Edge of Sleep.

I watch the dust settle in on the
morning light.
Epidermis and cosmos dance
a helix -
silent messengers from the bracket worlds,
paratroopers in a clandestine
battle for the shores of our bed.
Absorbed by the landscape
of fur and ruffle,
the withering face of dog
and man
passes time, sighs, harumphs
And rolls its eyes.
A sorrowful snout watching
the pendulum clock.
Today is already
indiscernible.