Insomnia

eyelids almost
but not quite
heavy enough
to take me
from the dream i live to dream
into the dream itself

i long
to smile
with such happiness
i drool
and am proud
of the traces
on my pillow.

my mouth
craving
somethin' sweeter
than honeycomb,
or butter pecan
somethin' sweeter
than memory of a lover's insistence
or his seduction
to come
be
remembered
in this here present

my touch
wanting to feel
something softer
than keyboard clicking
something
pre-linguistic
something simply
less calculated
than the calculus of poetry
or its failure
to hold my hand
write me the poem
no one has written
me

thoughts of this thinking
fumble
like some deferred cuddle call
some awe-inspired calling
a third chapter or 7th breath
waiting to ex hell
at 2:00 a.m.
and counting...

my body
caresses itself against the mattress
arms fold under arms
that have promised to hold me
better than others have
let me slip away

tonight
I am feeling
not so strong
un-sexy
like tomorrow is taking too long
to give birth to my next smile
(what I would give to smile
as effortlessly as I spell it)

my insomnia
is the body's insistence
that these arms will not trick,
tease, sex
this body
into thinking I am enough
tonight
I cannot save myself
hold myself up
measure the distance
between the drum beats of my
he-art

tonight
i reject others
who would love
to try
to love

tonight
i want to be
enough for me
tonight
but i am not...

don't
feel safe enough to cry
stong enough wait for night
to come
as surely as it passes

so eye stay up
like the yawn waiting to come
with mourning...
when eye done grown
so tired
of being open
that eye curl back
into the promise...
of a new salvation
and the darkness morphs
into a chance
to maybe
do it better
next night