I HUNGER FOR SLEEP

The hunger pangs of sleep desired,
Sleep ungot, sleep denied,
Gnaw at my inwards,
At the strings of my psyche,
At the sinews of my being.
The ravenous Titan of sleep
Would devour me
Like Cronus swallowing his children —
If I could be digested.
But the discontents of my anxiety
Lie ill on the ogre’s stomach;
I am vomited up from sleep.

And so it is.
Too often, too many nights,
I am vomited up from sleep,
In a nocturnal indigestion,
Not to fully find its embrace again.

Yes, embrace.
The hungering maw of sleep
Is also the nurturing womb.
And sleep hungers for me
Just as I hunger for nurturing.