Today I'm sharing a poem by Danielle Boodoo-Fortuné, a Trinidadian poet and artist. You can learn more about her at her web site.
Insomniac’s Song
The night is a bomb.
No one will sweep
up the morning.
I am wrecked,
startling,
a vessel hollow
and lost
Undone, I wander
an ocean of dying
moths, with a heartful
of flammable terrors
to buoy me.
This is my moon,
Sliver of bone
Rattling
among the flotsam
I know the sun
will not wake
for me.
Happy Saturday all.
Wow.
ReplyDeleteHaving the less-than-joyous experience this last year of increasing insomnia (an artifact of both aging and my stupid autoimmune) the first words, "the night is a bomb," just feel SO right, and they go on from there. I'm glad to have been introduced to this artist.