from SLEEP PARALYSIS :
Then nothing called us on the phone.
We watched a blue-lit window on a dark back road.
In this time and place my outsides are buried (by accident) under a tree.
We lay the rest of ourselves on the floor and look up at the molding.
We watch headlights make a name on the ceiling.
We don’t say it out loud, or we can’t, or you do once and everything stops ticking.
For every color I can move across the sky with one hand, ten more won’t budge.