The Sleepwalk

A Poem

I don’t notice much and even the clamour of words a rolling mountain of recycled cans becomes meaningless left in the distance so quickly and unable to scar anything doesn’t wake me up won’t startle any key revelations out of the skin now Well, I’m not dreaming I think I checked on that much The collage of bruises that I can’t account for in the morning numbering themselves up to some hundreds I don’t pretend that I can count that high in this state I barely see how I didn’t bother to get dressed but some clarity enables me to hear the taunts of the critics residing here And I still cannot be sure just how awake I am

J.D. Harms 2020