Sleep

isn’t easy, the white slap
of fear hits just when I
slide from dusk into night.

I was 12, Mom unwakable.
Pills strewn across furrowed
sheets, black buds amidst the dunes.

Now, falling asleep has the
coppery taste of oncoming
headlights, closing in my lane.

I flinch

and hold the covers tight.

Black Poppy Review 2022