The right wrong time
A night that it’s a day
dark and quiet
my dreamy eyes awake
to be owners of nothing
and I can finally stay still
and read poetry
in peace like a fat book
you fit in this wrong time
tall and straight
among sleeping colors
you are a silver line dancing
the midnight dark time
of clarity, serenity
what I lack from 8 to 5
wishing I could awake the poems
that sleep too much
how they like to sleep my poems
and how I am afraid to wake them up
to someone unfocused
sad and anxious
I debate under the covers
my strategy for success
becomes a pointy little knife
calling to reset
to slap the screen down
untighten my being
swim away
to more important matters:
should write my next poem in English or Spanish?
and I know the answer is both
and I feel everything can be and matters
when I feel loved by the night
wishing I could be always be this
midnight self
that treats me gentle
like the spirits that warm the air
close my eyes, turn off Grey’s Anatomy
and whisper to my ear go to sleep
you are making breakfast in a few hours
