Interactive Poetry
when i wake up this morning
sleep is still sleeping
and i slip out of the blanket
not to disturb sleep which
is still soundly snoring
last night we did not pretend
that we were two dead people
sleep was tightly curled upon itself
its arms were not around me
and i could not remember anymore
exactly
whatever happened
to me
or us
if there ever be
this morning
sleep is dead
and i survive
to meet another face of death
in the kitchen
and also in the rest room
and also outside the house
into the road and in the office
where i am working
there are so many faces of death
in my own world
and i am not the loyal subject of sleep
which is death's younger sister
neither am i a friend of death
nor its foe
for out of this everyday encounter
death becomes nothing
but another furniture in the hall
another rock in the garden
part of the numerous leaves in the air
one of those many ' its'
that does not
really disturb me anymore
tonight i will sleep with sleep again
(it is dead and unburied)
i do not name sleep for you
since i too does not know about its true details
or identity
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poem by Sebastian Soberania
Added by Poetry Lover
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