Nate Maxson’s most recent poem to appear here was “Corona/Fugue” (July 2016) 

Insomnia
By Nate Maxson

Blue button on the close machine, lights down to suggestion

Harp strings dangling, nerve endings from the ceiling: after a while you forget they’re around

After a long while you might even forget there are walls in the first place

Substances of unborn dreams on white almost dancefloor-like tiles

To forget the instrument and remember the sound

Hell,

Most people forget

The guilt that comes to us during this (really hitting the sweet spot). It’s probably better this way

Don’t beat yourself up over it

You’ll forget, and it will be like no longer being deaf

And I, reduced to a skeletal structure,

Will walk birdlike

Through the night-kitchens