I write
consciously when water taps
to mark each sleepless moment
consciously when water taps
to mark each sleepless moment
when curtains can’t contain
the flame of a full moon
nor the glare of the street lamps.
I write
when impulse overwhelms sleep
and verbs float in the air
fighting for air space
with bleating sheep
too loud.
One by one I shoot them down.
