my entries for the Construct Cup |
night is a dance— attack and retreat, twirl and twist, an endless negotiation between my spinning mind and my desire for sleep— there is no rest as problems circle into a nightmare of waking. the first measure starts as footsteps climb the stairs, their familiar rhythm a signal that night has begun. silence. I feel my heart pulse in my fingers, in my neck, in my feet that twitch. the beat is held by blood and clockwork ticking past midnight. I dance the rituals that signal that it’s past time. the lights can go out. I put down my book, tuck away my yarn, shake pills into my hand, taste my blood— copper bright, brush my teeth— cinnamon mint, dress, tuck myself away into the soft cloud of my feather bed. I close my eyes, and the melody bursts inside my eyelids in ripples of red and blue, gold and green, swirling together and apart. five minutes, ten. the light blooms again, an expression of my surrender to wakefulness. and so I take my book again, my eyes burning as I lose myself within the pages until the smell of ink soothes me, until dawn spills her light onto my bed, and sleep finally carries me away. Prompt for: May 1, 2016 ▼ |