First sleep, then eyes
open to the ceiling
where something circles. For a moment,
you can’t name it. And for a moment
you’re not afraid. Remember
Blake’s angels, how they leaned
toward each other, and balanced
by touching only the tips of their wings?
Between their bodies, a space
like the one just after rain begins, when rain
isn’t rain, but the smell
of dust lifted, something silent and clean.