6:00 A.M.
I still cannot sleep
as I sit between floors
of black fire
quiet, still.
My clock is marching across the wall
like the moon
its tick tock teeth
chewing on eternity
smacking its infinite lips.
I am hungry now
I cut a slice out of the moon
and put it on a plate
place it on my bed.
My legs are mired in sheets
rolling like waves across my stomach
my slice of the moon floating
alone and glowing
stranded out at sea.
I herald the orange blinds
the color of eyelids
the neural flood of morning.
It pries it’s skinny arms through the window
patiently strokes my head.
I am still carrying Colossus
In my own arms across
my eyelids, back and
forth,
back and forth
no place to set him down.
I forget that I have not slept
and rise to eat my breakfast
the last slice
of the moon.
