In the morning ,knowing was foggy
Self-awareness, of being one’s self.
Those were words that sky-dropped
Out of a vague night of fitful sleep.
A head cold set it to a clearer view
A vitrified sky , visual infinity map
Where sky would know everything
Follow you through all your streets
Amid stars in their original homes.
After the cold has left groggy head
Only a piece of broken sky remains.
You have to re-invent it each time
Your head shifts or its tilt changes.