Every school night now I write you
At 3 or 4 or 5 & however many mins
To say I won't be in in the morning
Here while no one is in, yet we all are,
Me too. But tonight I already wrote,
Two-ish hours hence. So I write at you
This way instead.
I just opened my moon app, first time this
Quarantine; it sez we're at 99.7% full,
So maybe I felt that, somehow,
The child of the moon you know
I am. We are also nearly at the top
Of curves of how intensely we're
Dying and nearly so, around here.
Even after all this time I'm tickled
You're watching my show. I went and
Watched where you were. They're not
Just a boy band made up of 4 Joshes;
It's chock full of lines I think of you in.
Would believe there's a way
I anticipated this business, if only
By two months of wondering how long
I could go on my stored foodstuffs,
And why don't I, soon---
Drawn many times back to the idea
And wondering where it came from, food thing
-S always a complicated mystery,
Particularly for women.
Odds are good now the dawn comes ere
I snooze, even some 20-minute tease.
In college I wrote an insomnia villanelle. It was better
Than this, but not really good. But the form fit.Something there is to everyone else
In dreamland, or unconsc-elsewhere,
While I'm here, alone in this time,
Wakeful, and not loving a wall.