Night Shift 1

mosquitoes, gnats, benthic

life rises at dusk

I’ve repositioned

a seashell universe

 

 

Night Shift 2

racoon footprints newly minted

crab holes abandoned at sunrise

a single seagull on sentry duty

 

 

Night Shift 3

could you efficiently ask for another blanket

a new one is owed and available every ten years

you, of course, cut strips from old blankets, seal

door and window gaps throughout the house

 

 

Night Shift 4

waking during the night, prostate

calling collect every two hours

returning to REM panoramas

then, five a.m., empty and filled

 

 

Night Shift 5

winter, this house is completely sealed

absolute darkness except for that 43 watt bulb

above the cold kitchen stove

 

I’ve memorized steps, corners, walls

the placement of objects, a need

for tactile certainty and fulfillment

 

 

Night Shift 6

physical exhaustion, now the only thing that buys oblivion

wow! I wake up

filled with indifference

 

 

Night Shift 7

south facing studio window of 1989

mornings in the warehouse district

I still hold the sunlight in my hands

 

 

Night Shift 8

I crease  hand-written letters

until the words are illegible

and finally make sense

 

 

Night Shift 9

the high desert invades

a cool morning of coffee and light

sadness expressed in the usual way

id, ego, superego—begone!

[RK, 11/5/2020]