Insomnia

Hounds charging from one wall to another
the beating of crazy wings
something at the window
tapping like glass upon glass.

Sleepless, my eyes have clouded over
I remain myself
there is no decent tonight to the cemetery of sleepers
no mingling of arms and legs
lazily lost in that element.

I stare upon the shelf that is me
imprisoned in a box of four stark walls
panic rises sparkling along the legs
feathery behind the knees in that most intimate of
places.

I lie in bed symmetrical as a figure
on a ship's prow or on a tomb
hands folded in the caution of insomnia
the ache of being is everywhere in this room
ache of self like twine tightened around the head

we were born to drown in a blizzard of dreams
and sleepless, we are giant eyes
sleepless, we are protuberances
on the surface of the night
irritating the natural contours of the earth.