May 16th
It is a familiar tackle,
the way sleep pins you without warning
like a wave to the sand
before a lightning storm erupts in the body,
those drowsy jolts of dreaming
tangling night and day, dragging anchor
until you wake, clothes soaked with fever,
your face shining.
It is a familiar tackle,
the way sleep pins you without warning
like a wave to the sand
before a lightning storm erupts in the body,
those drowsy jolts of dreaming
tangling night and day, dragging anchor
until you wake, clothes soaked with fever,
your face shining.