Wednesday, July 13, 2011


I stir in bed, freeing legs from binding covers and sleeping dogs 
Red digits proclaim 4 AM 
I inhale frustration—wakefulness before sunrise 
Feet to floor, I sit up 
And spin 
Have I entered Dr. Seuss’s world? 
My lopsided room tips me sideways 
Askew and drunken 
I stagger a few steps trying to shake off my slumber 
Caution takes my hand, gentles me back to bed 
Mystified, I try to focus upon the closet doors 
Defiant, they refuse to hold still 
Jumping left, then right, then left again 
I close my eyes 
Willing stillness 
As if, by my determination alone, I’d control my world 
Command the spiraling   
Force it to stop 
But the twirling and swirling continue against my bidding 
Resigned, I retreat into sleep’s protective fortress 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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