Glazed eyes follow

whole paragraphs

without comprehension.

I somnambulate

carefully. Sshhh!

crawl into bed.

It works – – until – –

body sunk heavy in the sheets,

a vex neglected stirs,

gathers bits unto itself,

agitates further.

Brain roils.

Gut joins brain.

Eyelids draw up,

with grinding gears cut off all

dream traffic

open now to steaming rage.

Heels strike floor, though

shoulders ache still for

the sweet soft peace of the pillow.

What enrages me in the night?

Helplessness the base, a weak hand in

overwhelming circumstance,

bad faith in those with

control over our lives,

officials unwilling to move.

Users are rage teasers,

money-changers in the temple.

Is that why

God never sleeps?





┬ęBarbara Fryrear 2003