DeMisty D. Bellinger
What keeps me awake at night
lulls you to sleep at ten.
There are ten bars more,
but I can’t sleep.
There is a key change,
but I won’t hear it.
I can’t keep up with the tempo
I have forgotten all the words.
Things are changing too fast for me
shifting when I’m sitting
I’d get up, but I’m so down.
That’s how the blues go: I’m so down.
Who knows what repeats--
what keeps me away at night,
Lulls you, lullabies you.
Tending to directives from somewhere else—Meanwhile
and Suddenly and Next time--
Placing her into a trajectory
She can obediently follow, with thought:
“In a way that is sudden, something acts
suddenly, I react equally
and here is collision, against a collusion,
for the good. Here: I can be heroic!”
Meanwhile, she sits because this is what she does:
Sit here at work, sit here on bus, here at home.
At times, she is in the path of cleaning, cooking,
Grooming, being. With obeisance, without
Question. She looks up at those directives, hand-lettered
And Nietzscheian. Or anti Nietzsche. She can’t figure it out.
A pungent plant--
Pulled before purply flowers
Populate the head of a vine
Creeping up from under ground
papery skin lighter than my own,
And the flesh inside office supply color.
A versatile plant--
bite as sharp as pepper
almost unpleasant, a taste acquired
a coveted spice
this root too sharp for
caution. Too hot for