insomnia

photo credit: Google Images
for Magpie Tales

blood stains freckle
snow white linen
like rusted lace

i hide my face yet
i still hear the scrape
of sharp edged marbles

in your mouth
tumbling over scotch rocks
and little red last straws

nobody sees this
the more that doesn't
meet their eye

but break a leg
they've read the book
and smell the rat

the taste of bile once
on your lips, i know
this silences the barking dog

i wait, i pray you sleep
soon, soundly, sweetly
on soiled linen

as a broken spirit hides and
mends under the covers
of a library's worth of least read novels


Rene~November 2011
For d'verse ~ Poet's pub

photo credit: Rene