Poetry

Sleep Is Just An Open Relationship With Death*

Those watching wring their hands in mute despair
to know that life is fading from your heart
and every time you close your eyes I’m there.

Hypnos and I work hand in glove to bear
the weight of your corroded body part.
Those watching wring their hands in mute despair.

I fear the light and in the morning glare,
I shrink into the gloom that I impart
but every time you close your eyes I’m there.

Our time from neither nap nor blink feels fair
and so I close the gap with my dark art.
Those watching wring their hands in mute despair

To glimpse death’s lovesick shadow in the air
above your bloodless brow, mere threads apart,
for every time you close your eyes I’m there.

But theirs is not a love that can compare;
When daylight fades I know we’ll soon depart.
Those watching wring their hands in mute despair,
for every time you close your eyes, I’m there.

*This villanelle originally appeared in Sanitarium Magazine #31 but formatting was lost in transit. To my knowledge it hasn’t been fixed, so here’s the correct version.