Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Two A.M.



Two a.m.; time to arise from dreaming

Sweet silence ignored for the inner buzzing.

To my right, continuous positive airway pressure

To my left, glaring clock and resting dog.


Time to lay hand on his chest; still breathing.

Time to nudge for canine twitches,

Time to notice that it is two a.m. again.

Time to wonder about my objects.


Objects of desire, far flung and unrequited.

Objects of focus, uninviting and recalcitrant.

Objects of consternation, shrouded in malice.

Objects of loss, far beyond tearful grasping.


Up and out to try to change things

Fiddle with the thermostat, the window

Close the blinds against a reproachful moon

Avoid my reflection in the dark bathroom mirror.


Nothing gets solved, no one is called.

Nothing gets healed, no one is touched.

Nothing gets written, no one is reading

It's two a.m.; all eyes are closed.


I could move as a ghost through my halls

Bare feet on carpet, pacing amongst the living

As though dead, I drag my chains

Back to bed to curl against unresponsive forms.


(c) Stacie Ferrante

7-8-08

No comments:

Post a Comment