Sleeplessness
D
Daniel Brick
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In sleep, I am always alone.
No bed is large enough hold
all of my tossings. I awake
again and again, and feel
darkness as a weight.
Even as I push against it,
it presses harder, it takes
my breath. I am scared to see
my exhaled breath dissolving.
Something malign exhausts my reserves.
Or so it seems. Could it be some wounded
part of me exacts this hostility? Only
near dawn do I sink into a vexed sleep
that mocks the repose I long for.
Oh, in what detour of darkness
do my sweet dreams reside?
Bu şiiri puanla
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