What does one do when one is too tired to sleep? Rewrite old poems

“No,” said the starling—“I can’t get out—I can’t get out,” said the starling."

Bastille

A starling confined inside my heart escaped
on the arched back
of a sudden sigh I carelessly
relinquished
It battered through my chest
through capilary walls
It turned
my inner set awry

Fresh air blowing cooly through
my trachea brushed
the bird's dotted feathers
The starling paused
twitched
and burst toward a spot of bright blueshine

I swallowed hard
and squeezed my breath
until the bird slid
slow
as
death
behind my rib
clasped back in place with a click.