At night I’m jarred awake for no reason,
I don’t even have an alarm clock.
Nature wakes me up from outside, when I need to feel Nothing.
My room is a dark coisa with vague white walls.
Out there is peace as if nothing existed, not even
Vaughan Road.
I wish for the rattle of an alarm clock. You know it.
A little gadget battery-run on top of the night table,
that cancels all existence on earth and sky…
I almost wonder what this means
But stop, feel myself grin stupidly into the pillow,
For the only thing my waking symbolizes or signifies
Touching the enormity of night with my Eirin smallness
Is the curious sensation of touching night’s enormity
– there might be ghosts, a door just slammed –
with my E smallness…