Snap: Night Watch
Sleepless nights should be few,
few and far between, tolerable
so long as they¹re rare interesting,
even; hours when the dark is kind,
the household breathes in unison,
recouping itself for the morrow;
in the absence of distraction,
then, a chance to review one¹s life.
Prolonged recurring sleeplessness,
however, is a menace.
So tonight it feels acceptable,
predictable, comfortable:
run through some recent gaffes,
plan an apology or two,
rehearse some overdue charm,
draft some sayable sentences,
trust one¹s verbal memory
to call them up when needed.
Others may curse the day they were born,
or evil politicians;
not I, merely my humbling stumbles:
five decades back, the girl lost
who spurned me and my fumbling;
five hours ago, in the café,
that spoiled joke saying salinity
when I meant senility!
straight after that sad Julie Christie
movie about Alzheimer¹s...
then the notice on my windscreen:
parking fine: 55 dollars
these things can rankle in the night hours.
Easy now, slide back to sleep:
relax head and neck, steal back
from Herself (for a change, not
insomniac) the hot water bottle
needed most by one¹s distant feet.
Tomorrow, will those sentences
come up when called? Repeat them once,
then sleep. Not so neat this time?
Trust till morning. The clocks are chiming.
Chiming again. Chiming again.
Max Richards
Doncaster, Victoria
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