so foreign to see the eyelid on my face
a part connected to my bodily surface
move of it’s own accord
not even asking the brain
for permission. The muscle
that controls opening and closing
jerks in defiance of wakefulness.
But the muscles cannot override the lid
down towards the dark pools
below. They can only exert a tremor
willing the eye to dip
behind the eyelid, a physical sunset
that won’t take place until
long after my side of the earth
has rolled over in it’s bed of sky.
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