"Une façon de dire, qui ferait Qu’on ne serait plus seul dans le langage."¹ - Yves Bonnefoy

In this room of paper I sit with my ear to the dark.

Sleepless, I am listening to the night with its sounds

of sleep, as hours sift through all the rooms

of the heart, uncovering again the river that is your

flowing laughter. O, would you believe me if I said of the all dream cities

I will travel to tonight, it is in your voice's echo that I wish I was sleeping tonight?

[1] A way among words, so that our solitude in language ends.