Things Allergic To Sleep
By Nora Weston
I will count to infinity knowing the impossibility
of getting there, then attack
primes who will inflict pain, still 2, 3, 5…
If I go subatomic, will I desire a particular
flavor of quark?
I’d like clarity on the color red and all
of its friends. Do we see
the same shade or is it a hue? My favorite
color is green mixed with a smidge blue,
but is color real or reflection of light?
Whales sound sad when they sing.
Is that merely my perception of them
while communicating? I know scientific
knowledge about yesteryear is crucial, learn
from mistakes, but displaying those
who’ve passed is controversial. Let them rest.
Back to green. I’d like fake grass.
Ten minutes after a cut, those blades stretch
growing back. Water. A basic need, what we
are mostly composed of, so why is it
so difficult to keep clean? I cannot ever open
the plastic vegetable bags at the market.
In the deep, way below sunlight what must those
creatures think if a speck of light violates?
It might seem otherworldly like a UFO.
Those things. Triangular, beyond bright, caught me
off-guard looking for Mars that night.
Scary, a thrill watching three scattering about as if
playing tag in the atmosphere. I shall let go
of believing…we are alone.