Wednesday, January 9, 2013

untitled as yet

It began and at first
that is all that I knew; something
had begun.  His nights of vast
sleeplessness edged up to
his days of panic, a riptide
threatening to pull him under.
Dread like a stubborn moon
refused to set, each [morbid] thought
ebbed higher until, for weeks,
it felt
as if
he stood
on tiptoe, nose
only just
above the water,
about to lose the sand
under his feet, wishing for sleep.
Not pitiless, I could not stay awake.
I slept next to him, drifting
off on rafts of moonlight.
For thirty years he'd slept
through my fears and sorrows,
while I stood the window of night
wishing for ocean
instead of desert.

(or this form)


It began and at first
that is all that I knew; something
had begun.  His nights of vast
sleeplessness edged up to
his days of panic, a riptide
threatening to pull him under.
Dread like a stubborn moon
refused to set, each [morbid] thought
ebbed higher until, for weeks,
it felt as if he stood on tiptoe,
nose
only just
above the water, losing the sand
under his feet, wishing for sleep.
Not pitiless, I slept next to him, drifting
off on rafts of moonlight.
For thirty years he'd slept
through my fears and sorrows,
while I stood at the window of night
wishing for ocean
instead of desert.


2 comments:

  1. Susie - so beautiful. I like the second format, because I get such a precarious sensation of being right there with this person, "nose...only just...above the water." Such a powerful poem; it communicates so well the connection we have with them (if I'm reading this correctly) and our hearts that cannot help but see, our second sense as they shift and as they suffer. Goodness gracious, so lovely.

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