he fell asleep in his armchair
in the lounge room
before the fire

chill winter began outside
on his doorstep
then rolled out in low hung grey
as far as the trees and hills
that stood sentinel on the boundaries
in the distance

within his own four walls
he slept

when he opened his eyes
he seemed in darkness
he could see his hands
could see himself
without the aid of light

casting about he noticed
he was in un-winter
unwalled unchaired unclothed
he was a-float
that was a-stand
that was not orientation
or anything at all

unhurried in the strange
he accustomed

aware at last
he scanned all points around him
and could not locate
the trees
he missed the hills

no clouds no sky
no colour
no line of the horizon
he could not find a beginning
nor an end

he could find
no thing

the trembling
when it began
was centred in his belly
and rose to touch a smear of bile
upon his lips
before he opened his mouth wide
without thinking
and began to scream
© Frank Prem, 2010

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