Farinata Uberti

Sepulchered,
you raise your head,
lower
the sheets, close the blinds
unhinge your body from the rigid
impression
of the bed. Serrated morning
weighs upon your tomb
in one-inch shafts,
the floor burning,
unfolding, emptying
in concentric circles
and the world
peopled
by your thoughts
becomes Hell’s fixture.