She drifts

Stares

Books waiting     to be organized      

                  put away

                  it’s a good job

                   her sanctuary. used to be.

the mean thing he said that morning

the tears grow    

Appear calm.

set the book down.  breathe slowly.  steadily.    try.

stiff.              march.           restroom.    lock. 

In a hole

In a quadrant

On a line of logarithmic assumption

                cries into her hands in such magnitude

                if only the exhaustion hadn’t piled up

   without good sleep on her side

             she doesn’t feel comfortable anywhere

 Not even…

 That’s the way insomnia works

 the rocks overlook that small harbor

 the towering volcanic structure behind her

 foreboding Greek god.

 Poseidon, when do the sea otters come out?