We’re the uncounted ones, grazing
ever expanding fields of dark matter
night after night.
Woolly ruminants. We chew the cud
of dreams, regurgitate all sense and logic
within our various stomachs.
Lozenge-like eyes that slowly blink.
Fleeces nebulous as vapour in a cloud,
our knees are pretty springy.
Sheep merges into sheep, huddled
in sleepless flocks through sleet, through fog.
Always on the verge of being lost.
We follow one another over fences,
wave after wave of us, sub particles
of imagination, waiting to be discovered.