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

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