Sliding down into that phase
where the two heat lamps
sunning your arms-like-live-pin-cushions
in which all seems a bit dreamy --
be it the heat or not
you've nothing to do with your time
but sleep. The grandest object:
the window: an arch, pillar sentinels,
long glass plates, rose-tipped
at the actual arch. Darkness.
Awake again, heat's off.
were there ghost's cackling recently?
The arch pointing downward, smiles.