"Sleeplessness is like metaphysics. Be there."
I’m there, nearly every night.
I’m the girl holding the flower
as tall as her, half the petals fallen.
The kitchen dark hums, the glowing digits
increase. A distant television talks, pauses,
talks, pauses. No gypsies, or crippled men
playing cozy songs, no child sobbing...
but wait now—a baby is crying,
so close, it’s almost mine.
fiction poetry "fact" photography