INSOMNIA
Once again he cannot sleep.
He lies in bed with his eyes shut and the blood
pooling in his belly.
Once again sleep eludes him like light through his fingers.
Once again he gets up, puts on his feet, pours out his eyes
into the dark lake of his window.
The window gathers silence tightly around him like a shawl.
The silence has the colour of memory. The colour
of sleepless remembering.
Kobus Moolman