Cacciatorepoetry.net » Without Flail (2008)

Without Flail

I’ve always been fidgety. Sometimes it drives me nuts.

After our good-nights, my hearing is acute,

I dial in the noises lost in the blur —

the sound of my toes scraping ‘cross the sheets,

this evening’s sniffle du jour.

With each minute, things exaggerate,

my fidgets fill the room entire.

Despite the crickets that abound,

a simple squirm grows ever-louder.

It will be long before my tics subside.

It will be long before I wriggle free

from this linen prison that enslaves

the slumberous side of me.

After our good-nights, my body grows tired

of the nonsense my routine entails;

and so I manage, eventually,

to fall asleep without flail.