YET ANOTHER NIGHT
                               
The pricks of the night
pricked the night through.

All through the night,
wooden,
nickel, steel,
and sharp edged,
the sleep slept somewhere out.

And the night
rubbed hard against its eyes.

The night stayed alert
at the fort of my eyes.

The night
stayed puffed in the stomach.

Engraving insomnia
in the eyes,
the night made
one more assault
upon my heart.