As I open the window
another day’s arms embrace me,
I sell myself to a different sort of sleep
that waits in ambush.
on the back of the page
lines scattered at random
stab my eye,
my brain
my heart.
the golden triangle
its points fully engorged
will be sniffed out
by bloodhounds from the wasteland.
translated by
Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan
Niculina Oprea
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-golden-triangle/
