Julian Matthews | Poet’s Insomnia

Poet’s Insomnia

It is late and you are awake, stricken by Poet’s Insomnia
You count sheep — and stop at one
You wonder how this lone sheep got here
The scene is a green, verdant field,
framed by white picket fences, rolling hills, shining sun

Scratch that—
Why is this field so green and verdant?
Make it windswept, dirty-olive long-grass, patches of burnt umber
Make the fence mottled, termite-infested, rotting like a grounded pirate’s ship
For that matter, why do hills always have to roll?
Make them weathered, fossil-studded, miocene
Forget the sun

And who does this sheep in the foreground belong to anyway?
Surely not Mary or Little Bo Peep
And why should its fleece be white as snow?
Too cliché
Make it the color of old lace, flecked parchment, speckled with rust brown

Let a soft breeze blow, lightly at first, then make the wind pick up
The scene darkens, the sky groans, lightning pierces the horizon
Rain pours down faster and faster like slanted glass lances
And the sheep – your sheep – the one you were counting on
transmogrifies into a coyote, no, a hyena,
no, a rabid wolf, fangs bared

It stares directly at you, irises enlarging menacingly,
two shiny, pulsing cannonballs about to go off
it growls dripping saliva, hackles raised,
about to pounce

And you lie there, resurrected, like Lazarus
fingers reaching for phone
to write it all down

Julian Matthews is a multi-ethnic poet published in various journals and anthologies. He crashed into a poetry workshop seven years ago. That happy accident turned into a rabid compulsion. If you wish to support his recovery, please send him Wordle answers at http://linktr.ee/julianmatthews