Lying

                                                       In the confused beauty
                      restless night
distressed blankets                        
                                                  Pahn rises apart

respiration        from body
deflated          
                                                                                 floating

calling to the mattress                                                           
pulling at grey             and air

abstracting                                                                     
into the room
                         becoming          a sheen of particles
in the shafts of dark                                                            

directionless

he gathers        himself                                       
                                        from the curtains
                                                                  from the beams
sending cords                            
            through the windows

he inhales feverishly                                              
the disparate flesh
and reaches                               from scattered sleep
to the nightstand
 With the feel                            
                            of solid wood tipping
and the sound
of the clock and the candle
as they thud on the floor
he                                                                                
slowly              

                reconstitutes