The Insomniac

AF Moritz

…

I slept well last night.
How beautiful, those two sessions I had,
two hours each, of being dead while alive.
I was the dead-living. Not a manmade monster,
not a zombie, or a ghost—but like a black
swimmer in a warm black ocean
on a moonless night without a breeze or star.
What had given me to the water? Where did I fall from
to that place? Who saw me be thrown or dive?
I appeared and vanished in my arc.
I have known what it is to be dead.
I have known what it is to be a cloud.