Unable to sleep
I get up at one to make tea
frost sparkles on the flat roof
outside my kitchen window
frost is given its own light
ghost grey
and the town beyond
may as well be sky
lamp black
behind the auras of street stars
while in a loftier emptiness
older lights of Cassiopeia
position themselves
to wink at me
to announce
in their unshakeable W formation
that for I absolute centre of the universe
it is indeed Wednesday