Though night defeats me.
My mind only daring to allow sleep
When that sneaky sun,
Crawling on his fat belly like an ant,
Creeps through the cracks
At the sides of our basement bedroom blinds.
The cat, as busy as she always is,
Pads and claws and runs,
Gracing me with a swift, midnight presence,
And then kneads the dough,
Burying deep her newly sharp talons,
Tempered just for me,
In to the quilt and the small of my back.
The walls sway in the breeze. The doors all creak.
Small lights bother me.
But, oh, the sun, that long unwelcome friend,
Like sand in my eyes,
Bags full, weighing down the lids with promise,
And a shine-filled smile,
That addictive quality of its own.
Her heavy breathing is punctuation;
A sweet period,
Filling me with guilt for all my failings
As a sleepless man.
Feet poke out from under the warm bedding.
The cool breeze comfort
Will bite hard at my quest-worn anklebones.
At last, here comes that swollen morning star,
Here to make you stir,
And rob me of my patient consciousness,
As well as your face.
Wasted hours regretfully lost to sleep.
The night brings defeat,
And coming dawn burns out the heart of me.
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