The Insomniac’s Orchestra

Overhead, faceless clocks dripped through the eaves,

cracking that echoed with baying and reports

playing on fraught nerves and

Thoughts gnawing at the bone, sawing and mixing with

the tuneless bass of distant shell shocks, giving birth to

eyes without lids.

These tautened strains played for the corpses waltzing in the street,

I could not bear to witness

the shuffling of their feet,

I opened my eyes to see you; arms, tangled hair, twisted leg,

all mixed with the rubble

of our unmade bed.

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