In bed last night
I heard the clock ticking
Curt words that sounded
Like icicles snapping.

Like a record
Skipping, skipping,
On the drums of my ears, I
Heard my tired heart beating.

Then, like waves
Crashing a slant of beach
And darkly receding, the strophe/
Anti-strophe of my own breathing.

Add to that the wail
Of the Metro-North train, passing-
Quite a medley, really. Quite
A concert, the Metro-North train chiming in.

by Morgan Michaels

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