Work at the dock is dangerous Poem by Tonnus Oosterhoff

Work at the dock is dangerous, falling asleep deadly.
The men take their sleep defences along to the hut.
There is the split in the roof again: morning. Back to the ship's side.
Behind their blackout curtains the Chinese rulers
startle awake from truth dreams.
Ever since I've known you, everyone sleeps more poorly.
At night, two see from the little black gleams
in the other's face that they are looking at each other.
"We are getting divorced!" They know at once how they both looked
at the same time.
"We're separating." Poor loved ones in each other's thoughts.
The body is driven over a furious path
to another world, it jolts awake all the time.
To drink, to have a pee, to scratch itself with worry.
Is it pain, is it pressure? In the past, when I turned over,
I'd fall asleep immediately. Now, with the results,
the beginning of the end, I have to learn to sail away again.
Ever since I've known you, everyone sleeps more poorly.
The dark is larger, a wider hole.
Who knows what thousand year old struggle is
being settled, Chinese rulers, until
a new day falls to its graceful close?
The beginning of the end sealed,
the white tiled corridor interminable.
Sunday morning started with your first name
thrown out by sheer accident.
Turn around, again, unable to give informed consent.
The work in the dock is dangerous, no ship
has taken no lives. The boss curses,
the relatives arrive, and the work goes on.