Slumbers Poem by Stug Jordan
Slumbers
A night-time of secret insomnias burn
in the streets’ windows,
fatigued artefacts of the dead day gone,
faces in a bathe of lamps
twisted in awkward pretence of sleep,
playing dead as the day
animates the night’s genuine dead;
office faces, overalls,
fresh out of the nakedness dreams
and ignorant of when
that coldness soothes the earth
before the day breaks.
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8/6/2026 1:48:08 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
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