Telescope

Some say a blackhole centers
cosmos—who said this? Tonight
light traces the figure who is
asleep, three days of sensing
a dream halved by hours: intermission
is where you must stare
into the sun. Won’t go. A vacuum
of light. Lucid is a word. Daydream
—spaces pawn for one minute
vacancy. From dawn to dust
hanging in a sunrise beam. Moved
by breath—the lungs, vacant. CPR
in reverse. I would refuse—
sense in me a motion revived.
Drain my eyes, then slide.