By the time I wake, I’m worn out.
I try to convince myself I slept,
because I have no memory
of being awake. All night’s dark
moments resemble each other;
until incrementally, day breaks
shadows cleanly across the wall.
I can see I am awake. Yet still,
I’m unsure I have slept at all.
My thoughts too are like this now:
ideas and images enter, then part
with only a hint they were there,
like a lover’s perfume on the sheets
hours after she has left your arms,
returning once again into his.
(January 7, 2023)