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.

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