Susan Cronin
The dictionary animals
are fast asleep.
No baby bird begs for
a worm
but Dear Diary
it has been so
uncountably long
since the night
scrolled by
unblank.
My pillow will not
yawn
me in.
Each day plunks me
down
on its lap, a drunk
Santa
with no intentions
makes legendary promises and I
grow
dizzy with belief.
My
list of wishes
long
since disappeared.
A toss and a bounce
and out.
ArenÕt I getting
too old
for
this?
Someone vomited in an
ocean,
then
felt better. It wasnÕt me.
If thatÕs all
youÔll let me
If
my eyes, my throat
stonethirsty,
deadthirstyGoodnight.
Goodnight.
Parched verse,
parked hearse, never
noticed
how much red.