The Wait

She caresses my eyelids:
Teases;

A feather she uses:
Soothes;

I turn to her and find:
Creases;

The curtain flutters
Insects in symphony
Shhh . . . she’s conducting
A long honk
A passing truck
The sound of distant thoughts
Memories,
A cry for help,
Screams from the past;

I turn again and find:
Lumps

She’s gone.
Lost.
Churned away,
In a whirlpool of thought;

Damp bed sheets,
Dank pillow,
Sweat, tears,
Residual fears.

Tick tock,
Tick tock,
Marches on the rhythmic clock;

Every hour, ticked number,
The mind going number,
I wait, for sweet, sweet slumber.