Prayer to the middle-of-the-night gods:
please let me sleep —
thank you for the beautiful moon
and winter silence
but please let me fall back to sleep —
no offense.
Amen.
—Terri Guillemets
3 am
Three o’clock in the morning, middle of the night
Insomnia ticking
three o’clock —
anxiety, regret
in the depths of worry
swept away in the
whirlwind of nothing —
a horrible nothing
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Octave Mirbeau, The Diary of a Chambermaid, 1891–1900,
What 45 feels like at 3 a.m.
Middle age — a stealthy, crafty nemesis.
—Terri Guillemets
Insomnia ink
3 a.m. ink is pure and unfiltered —
specks of truth glimmer in candlelight
—Terri Guillemets
Windblown
The veil concealing truth gets windswept in the wee hours, revealing all to the silence of the night.
—Terri Guillemets
Blaring quiet
A clock is ticking
in my living room —
I never even noticed
that it makes noise —
my mind is ticking,
my heart is ticking.
Everything quiet
is audible at 3 a.m.
—Terri Guillemets