Monday, January 15, 2007

Three a.m.

City's night time hum
insinuates itself through
bodies sleep and souls


I'm wakened by
the habitually ignored
shuddering, singing dynamo whine
of a familiar metropolis
that is not my home
snarling
around between and into
muscles nerves and dreams
tightly tangled nylon line
binding and slicing
into my stuttering heartbeat.

I'm afraid of this
new humming heaviness
absorbing into my chest,
wonder
when exactly it made the
alchemical electrical leap
from other to self,
count on unseen fingers
beneath cool bedclothes
memories
of other older hearts
diseased and broken
by anger, angst, angina,
realize that I'll sleep
no longer this night
rise and brew green tea
to warm my bone china
cup and hands,
sit up to face
familiar white demons
and half darkness
in the reflected pale
of a city's lamplit snow.

8 comments:

Aggie said...

Only you could transform insomnia into something beautiful.
I hope you sleep better tonight, Coyote, even if it means you will be less prolific.

fingers said...

Stunning! Worth the wait, too.
I've known this anger and angst as well, though in different cities.
You've got me thinking in colours again, Coyote.
Thank you for this one.

coyote said...

Hi, Aggie; at least it's quiet enough to meditate a bit....

Fingers, you're welcome! I can hear you thinking in colours from here...

C said...

I'll have some green tea as well...

coyote said...

I find it very calming...

100hands said...

Preciousnessss. :)

_Soulless_ said...

Enjoyed the introductory haiku. And, reading the first stanza, I am reminded of how sounds are capable of suffocating us (a grip on every nerve struck by a note). ^_^ (By the way, I'm delighted by the alliterations in this piece. Cheers.)

coyote said...

'hands, soulless, thank you.