3 am

I woke up at 3am thinking about I don’t know what.  I couldn’t sleep.  I didn’t sleep again until nearly 5. 

I wrote a poem in my head about a woman I know whose son is in the war.  She has graphic dreams about him.  She tries not to remember she has a son.  Her worst nightmares are horrifying, and I can’t sleep because I am thinking of a lover who has left me. 

I write like that often, in the head, without paper, hoping to recall it all when it is time to pull it out.  It’s sort of like that trick where the magician swallows a bunch of paperclips separately and then pulls them back out as a chain. 

I repeat the words over and over in my head like a chant or a meditation or a prayer.  Occasionally I change it a little, or add to the end, but it is always there until I can put it down on paper.  Perhaps this is why it took so long to fall back asleep.  I wrote it down already, and it will be a good poem, I think. 

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Filed under literature, lust and love, Musings, poetry, writing

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