A poem a day for a year #324

by Amy Turn Sharp


early in the morning
when everything is still
you sleep beside me
and I freeze time
the garbage men pound the neighborhood
this very old house creaks
but you sleep
we could be 25 again
songs unsung
I just take the insomnia like a lover
and use it
push it around
stick my finger in the mouth of awake
and practice this
there is no time
we do not move through this
all I need
is in this bed
it's where I find the words