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Don’t Think

Not for one sixtieth of
one sixtieth of an
hour.
Don’t                 
fall.
Into insomniac
anaesthesia.

Five hours past midnight I
smudge away nightmares
from beneath my eyes.
Drown mournful
echoes with a disturbance
of running water.

A woman’s body
stands before me,
naked and ashamed.
Unfamiliar.

I turn away
forever.

A contest entry

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Comments

  • Poetryintheblood gold member
    November 27, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    Thank you for your profound entry, Josie