Saturday, November 21, 2020

Previously Published in Em Dash Lit Mag . . .

Hearing Loneliness

In bed I lie, feigning
sleep.  My mind, ever alert, begins
to pick apart the night.  It starts with
          a drip
I cannot bring myself to stop,
merges with the metronomical ticking
of an alarm clock that has been
rendered unnecessary.  The not-so-
static noise of TV infoercials, that sad
semi-silenced soundtrack, a constant
din lulling me into complacency.  Groan
of over-sized springs, my side of a double
bed that knows no form
other than my own.

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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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