This Is Not a Stressful Situation
Order in the Court Exercise
At crescent moon, sleep ebbs away.
The darkness is more brown than black.
It holds me like a baby in its arms.
The taste of my dreamscape lingers.
Raspberries and clarity.
This is not a stressful situation.
My bedroom is unsaid.
I could be anywhere, but that smells like it does not matter, and it does.
The whole universe is around me, condensed into my box,
and I could touch a star by lifting my finger, but that would be disrespectful.
This is not a stressful situation.
The mattress sustains itself.
With catlike precision, it is neither lifted up nor weighed down by my presence.
The terms of engagement arise when their names are whispered.
Bobby, Joe, and Annika are the colors they go by.
This is not a stressful situation.
I have begged for this with patience.
Kneeling hazelnuts have always been too sweet for me, but pickled diligence is right on the left.
In this moment, I know my mission.
The neon sign outside my window says I have always known but without knowing.
This is not a stressful situation.
My breath is continuous in every possible way.
This is not a stressful situation.
At crescent moon, sleep floods over me.
