Lullaby and goodnight and goodnight and
I think this is a corporation I
could run, the progressive shunning of light.
If they let me I could keep statistics
on who needed how much, whose lack of hours
were sadistic and whose were just sad facts
in their overworked life experience.
At least make me a foreman, watching the
floor from an upper office, all the world’s
employees dreaming for me, a modern
glass menagerie of swanky business
luxury keeping me company as
I inspected nocturnal delights, as
I skipped from desk to bedroom in the night.
Filed under: poetry Tagged: bedtime, exhaustion, insomnia, late nights, mattress, pillow, sleep, sleep deprivation, sonnet, Sonnet Every Day, tuesday, wet dreams
