I stay up too late for someone who keeps aging
against my wishes:
not the staying up late; I want to catch the gloaming
the nightfall and rosy 4am
calls to rise.
The young can catch the early dawn
a shared secret between them and
the beetles scurrying across dewy
grass and fat worms;
not nightcrawlers, but those of the early rising type-
the ones who are afraid of robins
and sharp beaks.
I stay up too late for someone who is afraid of the
and the trembling jelly creature who lives
under my bed-
the one who touched my heel
when I was young and of the early rising type.
That scream settled it
no more late nights for me zombies
and, fantastically, handsome sailors
lived under my bed, waiting to drag
me into the undertow
but now it's just one lone sock and a stowaway dream.
Kate Burrows, New Jersey, USA