It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
The night comes swirling in my throat

In the morning it’s the strongest
Whatever happens in the night
When I dream and don’t remember
My thinking cut off

But not blissful meditation
More a sedation that bruises
The crunch of everything I
can’t take during the day

The night is not an ebb and flow
Night in, night out
It is a march towards the fuss
cowering in my chest now

It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
Like a beating against my temples

In the dark, I want to feel peace
Hear the truth of breath and the
sounds of blood running. Let go of the
fear my brain has planted.

My body harvests it.
It comes out because of the night
In fits and sighs every time
I see what I can’t do or have or be

I’m supposed to love the night
that brings me fresh mornings and
a deep rest in my face and arms and feet
I can’t feel them. The tremors have grown.

The seat of the night is in my gut
I make lists of tasks designed to
defeat it, turn it into mist–
cool water scatters everywhere

It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
It comes, it goes
Not the calming tides at midnight

But the compulsory dings of “What now?”
It has you by the throat
and the chest and the gut
Until you realize it’s knocking for you

Open the door
Feel the flutter
It’s a white dress on a hot day
Kiss it all over

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