The long nights
In the sleepless dark
My bed is a swamp of shifting piles
I wrap myself around them
Unsnug and discomforted
The back of my neck
Is hot like a dashboard
I pull at my confused hair
And turn my pillow over
Every half hour I turn it
And lie on what ought to be
The cool side
The mass of t-shirt twists me up
A breast sticking out of the left sleeve
My right arm caught in a trap
Losing feeling to poor circulation
And I am turning again
Like a sprinkler
Covering every inch
Going through each position
Searching for greener grass
Try to relax my brow
To quiet my rambling thoughts
I dont require dreams
Just sleep that feels like rest
In this restless early morning.
(c) Tasha Chinnock 2006
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