Insomnia by Karen Helman

by Karen Helman

O'Malley rises in the morning
complacent and forgiving.
It is at night
he ponders
the march of molecules before him
like so many sheets
hanging to dry
each waving in
what form the wind 
will take it.
He slides by one
sneaking a feel,
only to come across the next.
He thinks about his
Do they exist?
And the unfathomable:
can he clip their wings?
At night too,
he takes tea
which he now fears
fuels his fires.
He wants to rest,
to wake rested.
He vows 
to choose tea in the blue box
at market,
how foolish, the red.

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Karen Helman is a retired schoolteacher and librarian. She knows the word “schoolteacher” is dated, but she enjoys employing it anyway. She has been reveling in and with the wonder of words since she was ten years old and composed her first poem on the fly, while lying face down on a lawn and enjoying a bug’s eye view of the world.

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