Almost Asleep
Kimberly Johnson
pitch black dungeon dark except for
his screen beam of scrolling
against the haint-proof-blue headboard
eyelids fluttering lazily to the sounds
of drift-on-a-dinghy verge of the
edge of a deep sleep forest
where the gnashing of the
terrible teeth of the wild things
on the fringes of the wild rumpus begins
with the whirring blur of a white noise fan
feverish scritch-scritch circling of Schnauzer Fitz,
feet-sheet-scratching to Shanghai
rumble of thunder as we slumber under the
refrain of pelting rain
grumbling growl of Schnoodle Boo
the king of all wild things
who’s snoozing too
