Nicolas Greenwood

Sleepless

In a park, on a bench, lying down,
the back is numb and the head
Is impossible to move.

It is then
that the sky above becomes the sky beneath,
inducing a sudden sense of vertigo.

It is then
that the ground above me pulls me to itself,
keeping me from falling into the starry abyss below.

It is then
that concrete reaches up towards heaven
leaning over me and hiding the moon from view.

It is then
that shadows on the street do play
laughing and dancing ’til the morning light.

In a park, on a bench, lying down,
the back is numb and the head
Is impossible to move.

It is then
that I am
sleepless.

Sleepless

About This Poem

It has always struck me as unbelievable and tragic that so many of us, in the second quarter of the 21st century, still spend their nights on benches. I have always wondered, what is it like to fall asleep night after night under an open sky? The nights must feel unbearably long and strangely peaceful.

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