Zombie, I have become

I can not sleep
I can not
I dream,
as the ghosts avoid me,
of turtles, of war, of sisters, of pain,
loss, hunger
Into the small hours
(what's so small about them?)
I lie awake, thinking
of a house above a silver sea,
the smell of roses and bees,
in through the window: your voice,
from where I lost it
years ago

I can not sleep
I can not
I write books in my head
of a city, spires and all,
great chalices filled with light,
a young girl and another life

exhausted
I stumble into an embrace,
deep and strong,
drowning as sleep finally wants me

I can not sleep
but face the day as someone else