At night I would open the door on a bird that flew back and forth from a vast void as if it had never flown or lived in a tree-nest ,in a big hole outside that sucked all sleep.
Sleep would suck both bird and room that took no birds ,the hole that sucked. Sleep was the biggest hole inside room.
Sleeping birds never lived outside a sleep. They would fly back and forth like wind. They never existed except near a balcony’s hibiscus where they would tremble in outlines.