The daddy must be gnawing at the bones
of the mommy who coos, coos and coos
over the crying baby who makes a boo-boo, like all nocturnal families
do, oh they do, don’t they, they do
the clunkity-clunk, the yakity-yak,
and the bibbidi-bobbidi-boo,
the happy rigadoon and a mouse at two
in the half-moon bedroom. I’m running out of
sleeping capsules, my tricolored silencio!
Red, white and bright starry blue. Saviors of America.
I mean, insomnia. No, really, I do
mean my nebulous wakefulness
at half past two.
Tell me what I should do, do, do
to stop my roof from – boom! boom! –
falling down. The woeful spinster clomps, clomps, clomps
clomps down on my papery skull. Why wouldn’t she take off
her wooden shoes? Is she masking the echoes
of the owls’ raucous hoots?
Up, up, up
into the reddening sky
I see them go.
They are all in cahoots!
Originally published on October 29th, 2015 on my old blog.