Darkness inching toward light
Only in her slow, tired mind—
Outside the sluggish wind
Rattles and slaps the night.
The little bitch beside her
Breathes obliviously on.
Above, the ceiling fan
sets the fetid air astir.
No use looking for clocks,
Watches, phones, LCDs.
She knows none of these
Can tell her why she blocks
Off sleep, cuts off dreams,
Stares into nothingness.
The answer’s something less
Than the question seems.
Near dawn she drifts off
Into a restless reverie,
Remembering every
Morning of her life.
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