Wednesday, May 30, 2012


artwork: ralph murre

by Ed Werstein

taps me on the shoulder
and says she wants
to take me to bed.

I tell her I'm just
going to finish
this chapter and then
I'll join her and
she'll get what she's after.

Sleep is impatient
keeps poking me
insisting I pay her
some attention.

I think she is jealous
of my books.

Sleep slips a mickey
into my herbal tea
and has her way with me.

I wake at three and realize
she's left me again.

She's thrown my book
on the floor
and hasn't even bothered
to turn out the light.

~ first published on Your Daily Poem