Itay woke up from a bad dream, hard

he couldn’t get back to sleep
and the next day he had to work
but not until eleven o’clock in the morning

but at seven the construction would begin
and no one can sleep through that

he sat up late listening the neighbors
and Yusef Lateef’s eastern sounds

sleep came to Itay like finely ground coffee
dripping through the sheppard’s crook
of Lateef’s bassoon

milked along, watered by spit
from the boot through the bocal
to the double reeds and down his throat