Sonnet 7
It’s 2 am and I have yet to sleep.
The silent phone is keeping me awake.
And though the darkness is beautifully deep,
I can’t bring myself to drown in its space.
You are distant from me, but keep me up
when pieces of you flash into my view.
You could let me sleep, but I interrupt
with another thought of being near you.
You’re dropping things again, but it’s something
else, things you shouldn’t drop because they break –
your favorite plate, your heart, or porcelain.
You ought to carry these, for your own sake,
a little more carefully than that. Who knows
when you’ll need them again? They don’t regrow.
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