A Choice
It’s just me and one cricket now
and the clock on the wall
cricket, clock, and me
three rhythms
one choice
Even the lonely bars and their windowless sadness
sleep now
emptied bottles,
cold worn floors,
and forgotten phone numbers
a sickening silence of bad choices
Steady into the night now
I match the clock,
but the cricket is faster
What a disaster is sleep
The cricket just stopped
Now it’s between me
and this clock.
--Deb E. Tenney, 2006
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