Static
Carol Mikoda
Static fills my mind
as I wrap and unwrap
the death thoughts dragged
through the desert of this
sleepless night. The cemetary mound
of my pillow is hot
and confused no matter how
I turn or punch it.
My exhaustion will trash tomorrow’s
truth and I will feel
alone and lost all day.
A fog of sleep hovers
over all the world, but
I am untouched as I
wander through it, ghost-like
and angry.
