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
Nate, you know it! I’m walking my own night kitchen in yet another nighttime city, harp strings dangling nerve ends from the ceiling!
Really like this. Wonderful imagery, conveys the strung-out nature of chronic insomnia really well.