- Poetry - Insomnia is a lonely goddess
burdened with the mantle of Remembrance. She wanders – not aimless – but directionless with a compass rendered faulty by her magnetic push searching for a pole to pull her – away – to anywhere but the alabaster tombs where she drifts from room to room. So when she settles in my bed anointing with her tears the grey hairs of my head and we spend dark hours sharing the stories – the longings – that fill the bags under our eyes, lack of sleep doesn’t seem like such a sacrifice. The frayed, silver edge of her ancient mantle rests across my chest. Her dirge sparks the static air scintillating in my somber room. There are things worse than to lie awake with a goddess in the light of the moon. |
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May 2020
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