Читать книгу Storm Toward Morning - Malachi Black - Страница 10

Insomnia & So On

Fat bed, lick the black cat in my mouth

each morning. Unfasten all the bones

that make a head, and let me rest: unknown

among the oboe-throated geese gone south

to drop their down and sleep beside the out-

bound tides. Now there’s no nighttime I can own

that isn’t anxious as a phone

about to ring. Give me some doubt

on loan; give me a way to get away

from what I know. I pace until the sun

is in my window. I lie down. I’m a coal:

I smolder to a bloodshot glow. Each day

I die down in my bed of snow, undone

by my red mind and what it woke.