It starts out dark. When rosy-fingered Dawn,
her nails still glinting chipped “Asphyxia”
by Urban Decay, scratches blackboard-down,
I’ve lost another night: Insomnia,
my songstress, whom I’m trying to adore,
cacophony of birds and garbage trucks,
the hungry cat who scratches at my door,
in your firm grip I wriggle but stay stuck.

So rather than bemoan my sleeplessness,
I celebrate with silky robes and tea:
a red-eyed yet ambitious Orpheus.
My mission’s not to find Eurydice
(whose dark dreams look to me like beauty rest)
but thumb my ink-stained nose at Morpheus.