on waking at 3 a.m.
in this dreadful pattern of insomnia
& wondering if i could love you,
each unflinching minute
hums thick like a pulse—
a torrent of frantic wings beating
against the soundless expanse
of an unremarkable bedroom; somewhere,
where my mind houses our sleeping bodies
and little else. i envision our love
as that small breath
i always draw at the start of a dream,
sharp and secretive,
a tiresomely private mention
of a world you’ll never visit.
there is a cruel diligence
to keeping you here,
listless and expectant,
when my love has eroded to nothing
but some unearthed relic
of need.
Grace Gilbert is currently studying Childhood/Special Education and English (Creative Writing) at SUNY Geneseo. Grace is a finalist in Sweet Literary Magazine’s 2018 poetry contest, and her work can or will be found in Anomaly Literary Journal, Twyckenham Notes, Maudlin House, Pretty Owl Poetry, Gandy Dancer, Glass Mountain, and other publications. She hopes to pursue an MFA in poetry.