Laura Miller † Sonnet for the sleeping (utilitarian poem

The same about a three-armed bench is true for a supermarket; true for little concrete pyramids beneath an overpass;

cornfields that bear no crops, but highschoolers, dressed for Halloween, painted by smoke and incense, begging you

through damp hay and plywood to call them for liars. The whole contraption falls every time I try to close the blinds;

In the morning, I am in a whole city of second-story windows that face the sun.