Even though I’ve been getting up by six each morning this week, this morning I had to get up at the same time so I could drive my Zia to an appointment at the hospital for seven. This commitment changed everything.
I’ve written this poem in the form a haibun. Er, a sleepy, sloppy haibun.
The Night Before You Have to Wake Up Really Early
is not a night for sleeping
but a purgatory of pause
of veiled rest, barely closed eyes
body tense blanketed in woven worry
anxiety clawing in weird dreams
sheep shapeshift to list items
to-dos of undoing…
feedthedogbrushyourteethgetdressedpoop
don’tforgetdon’tforgetdon’tforget
possessed by the problem of not
hearing the alarm you quake gently
alarmed by every noise the night unfurls
sun still sleeps soundly
hospital bound with Zia Rita
autopsy of time
It’s Friday. We made it. If you can…write a poem today. You don’t have to show it to anyone. I encourage you, me, us to engage in this small, quiet task of word-play and ecstatic expression. We need this energy in the world when poets get shot in their cars by lie-rabid gunmen. C tells me to write out my anger, don’t be afraid…and I adore C for this, but I am afraid…so my offering to the anger is poetry. With love…and thanks to M for sharing the poet’s poem with me.
VANESSA SHIELDS 
What I like about your poetry, Vanessa, what I LOVE about your poetry, is the recognition. I read what you write and I say, yeah, I feel that too. or — that’s exactly how I feel but I didn’t realize it — or, yes, that sleep-not-sleep when you know you have to get up early is just the way you describe it. And then the change with the haiku, when the night is over and you’re off doing your good deed for the day with your Zia… such a different energy than the worrisome sleep.
thanks for doing these poemadays… I’m really enjoying them.
Charis
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