George Stanley

		for Reg

I was dreaming of my death when a car
alarm woke me.  The door of the dream
stayed in the room.
				I tried to think
of some distraction: bodies of my former
lovers gone missing.  The previous day
had vanished, too.  Thoughts of the one to come
pulsed in my brain like bells in a poem
by Poe.
		Then my eye lit upon
the rosy numerals of the bedside clock: 4:30.
4:30 - is 43 times 10.
4:31 - is prime. 4:32...
& sleep came back, on mathematical sails.

The East Village Poetry Web