An Ode to Restless Sleeping

to love is to stay
awake past midnight. to lie
as if you do this all the time, as if

the striking clock won’t undress you & leave you barefoot for the door this time.

I recall many things in the night: phantom touches, lost colors,
angels who have earned white butterfly wings. the scariest thing
about me is that I never forget. I am as small as a peanut wedged
in an elephant’s trunk. learned a sunrise can be ugly if you didn’t
intend to see the light. I never forget the awakening.

I play hide & seek under the covers
to avoid being seen by the sun. your eyebrow
meets my gaze better asleep & dreaming of ghosts.
I am as small as a sheep an elephant
crushes under its toes.

I never lose a feeling: the rotting flesh of a spider bite,
dry eyes that never blink. lying next to your sleeping body,
I check your breathing. always taught black belonged
to someone claiming death, I mourn for my
untouched topography.

sometimes I feel you
remembering me. mostly,
I love you in the mirror.
you have my
eyes, give them
back.

Tiny

I.
my breath is stronger than the wind
that’s what the dandelions reveal to me
as I lean in for a kiss
then blow all their seeds away.

with each rushing speck, I make a new wish
but with each wish, the seeds coat my body
until I’m swallowed by white filaments
chanting in a fervor around me.

II.
I never fly. I wish to float.

III.
the ants approach in a frenzy
bending my dandelion until I can no longer trace
my wispy specked spells;
these ants prove stronger than the stem,
lost in their fury.

IV.
I snatch the flower,
tugging it from its roots
(I am so envious)
and spy a white seed escaping
on the head
of a tiny thief.
I whispered my wishes
and now the wind will tell
everything. I am
outnumbered.