They Dream of a Number

Sleeping in long, symmetrical
Rows like belts of ammunition,
Like linked honey locust seed pods,

The indicators seem dreamless,
Never twitching under their lids,
Never rolling over sighing.

Shhh, yes, you’re here for their dreaming,
But not yet. Please, don’t disturb them.
Their appearance is deceiving.

They’re already, calmly, dreaming
A thin gruel of information.
Let them. Let the number of them

Slumber in them a little while.
Then you can slip in between them
And bring them to life and gunfire.