SEVEN SLEEPS FOR A NEW YEAR
i.
When I wakeIt will be the first dayOf something new That tiptoes along a telephone wireCatching fragmentsOf conversationAnd writing them down
ii.
I was snoringMy leg was in a weird positionIt remembered a jokeAbout a calf who mooedBut it was a leg calf
iii.
My teeth were grindingMy enemiesInto somethingI could live with
iv.
The brownshirts chase meUp the stairsSoon I haveNo more floors to escape toI shove open my eyesReach over to the night tableSip some waterThe brownshirts screech to a haltThey mutterScratch their heads(One head per brownshirt)
v.
I yawn while sleepingMy stomach growls while I eat  I write a poem while someone reads one of my poems
vi.
The digital clockBeside the glass of waterOn my night tableThrows a red 3:26Across my still faceThe spider danglingAbove my headDouble-checks its watches
vii.
I was sleepingI was not a hummingbirdI was not a can opener I was not a wisp of campfire smokeMy head lay on a pillowAnd a dream snuck out of my skullCurled itself into a ballWent bouncing off the wallsAnd out the windowInto the dark sky Into the cold nightInto the broken worldWhere it fixed everything

Stuart Ross1 January 2024
Over and out.