“In my bed”

I hear them cry
and the crickets
crunching in the green glow
of moons and street lamps.
I should get up,
undress, step back
into the shower and soak.
But I am so very tired
still— and where
my body lies, there
ought not to be
crickets cricketing.
I know this much.
Clearly, I am unawake;
In another time and
different place. Clearly,
I’d be happier if I were
there. But here I am,
in my bed, where I am
the only one who can
be heard here.

narrative poem written on 05-22-2011 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem


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