< Issue 6 >
insomnia
by Helen Estrada
my sleep hygiene is poor.
self-soothing abilities, non-existent.
habits we learn as children.
tired thoughts stab. at every inhale.
to-do lists ooze. with every exhale.
weary mind thrashes. against cotton pillows.
bedtime nymphs stomp. inside my head.
tease me of my inadequacies.
laugh at my creaking bones.
stubborn shadows lurk. from
crying walls of blackness.
they circle round my bed.
wait for me to drift.
are they here to sleepwalk with me?
or enslave me on their beat.
stalking other dreamless souls.
sage and wooden crosses.
no longer halt the darkness.
must add that to the list.
tomorrow more sage.
from the Chumash. who sits outside the station.
if i stay busy.
truth will stay sleeping--a dam
begging to be broken.
the email that wasn't sent.
the bill that wasn't paid.
the bathroom that wasn't cleaned.
i cast a vigil. begging for dawn.
to free me of these terrors.
to provide respite of tomorrow.
where lists. and tasks. and errands wait.
alas, night whispers screech.
from a sagging bed.
too weak to cradle me. too old to care.
insomnia
by Helen Estrada
my sleep hygiene is poor.
self-soothing abilities, non-existent.
habits we learn as children.
tired thoughts stab. at every inhale.
to-do lists ooze. with every exhale.
weary mind thrashes. against cotton pillows.
bedtime nymphs stomp. inside my head.
tease me of my inadequacies.
laugh at my creaking bones.
stubborn shadows lurk. from
crying walls of blackness.
they circle round my bed.
wait for me to drift.
are they here to sleepwalk with me?
or enslave me on their beat.
stalking other dreamless souls.
sage and wooden crosses.
no longer halt the darkness.
must add that to the list.
tomorrow more sage.
from the Chumash. who sits outside the station.
if i stay busy.
truth will stay sleeping--a dam
begging to be broken.
the email that wasn't sent.
the bill that wasn't paid.
the bathroom that wasn't cleaned.
i cast a vigil. begging for dawn.
to free me of these terrors.
to provide respite of tomorrow.
where lists. and tasks. and errands wait.
alas, night whispers screech.
from a sagging bed.
too weak to cradle me. too old to care.
HTML Comment Box is loading comments...