Making Love with Sleeplessness

Just as one
hand touches my sleeping
wife’s shoulder, the other
strikes a hole into
another world
where a new moon
hangs in a dark
sky. There is no
way out but through,
nowhere to go
but into a black night.

Dreams don’t come
easily when my head hits
a pillow of stars,
but when they do,
the spider that rules
this world forgets
its reclusive ways
just for the chance
to crawl up my
fingers reaching back
for what I’ve left behind.

Kip Knott | Mudlark No. 26
Contents | Nocturnal