Notes from a cold dark room

On my stomach I l lie
shivering from a cold
on the wall a painting of light
a work from a distant celestial past

Through the painting, the outside blows in
and on the window cill an empty bottle awaits
when the curtain hits glass
a ringing noise fills the room
at the end of day
this steady pulse
will cradle me away

to sounds of a present room
I merge with the sheets
arms and legs turn to chunks of meat

a wall is painted over
and the hook in my cheek
reminds me of the coming morning
that I rotate slowly
upwards
towards