I awake:
The morning is stuck in a still, viscous silence,
difficult to walk through,
difficult to see through.
All sound is
at once muffled and magnified:
a soup of noise.
No thing allows me to focus on its surface
long enough--
I hear the birds:
sounds like a cassette recording.
My own eyes are trembling--
I remember: the night
was even less friendlier,
the braided flesh in my back will tell you that.