Good Rhymes at Night

Went to bed with an unfinished poem in my mouth and could not kiss
or sleep because it repeated in my mind a thousand times
and without a pencil or pen to write with.
Not even the need for paper but my hand or my arm
so I can remember the lines for when I have some.

Lines that will define a life of divinity
Or the love I had in class two years ago,
or the way the birds chirp after a spring rain,
maybe the color wheel of the sky and its mood swings.
Even the pride for the color of my skin

The lines in my mouth would come out
as an insignificant blurt of bicker,
so the lines must remain in my mouth through the night
until the sky has its light and I can see
exactly where my pen or pencil may be.