After many pages flowing <br />prose my eyes begin to close <br />I find a marker in the folds <br />and turning over to my right <br />I let the book slip slowly to <br />to the floor. <br />Then coming up <br />and turning off the light <br />I find again the switch <br />is stiff and the lamp is <br />light the work to turn it <br />off requires a act of will <br />that almost wakes me up. <br />In doing this I find <br />as I have found <br />so many nights before <br />the base of the lamp <br />is made to mimic the <br />shape of a breast. <br />I bless the kindness <br />of this good night <br />then turning left to lie <br />upon my side I pause and <br />reaching down I rescue <br />my testicles from between <br />my legs and gently lay them <br />out on my left thigh where <br />they can rest in peace. <br />Then <br />as part of settling down <br />I tug the lower pillow <br />towards my neck and <br />stretch my right leg <br />long and down the bed. <br />Now I lift my <br />right leg high <br />and bring it down <br />to trap a fold of <br />bedclothes as a <br />pocket against the cold. <br /> <br />And all these futile things I do <br />I do to fill my mind with words <br />and overworked it often works <br />but sometimes somewhere <br />it breaks down <br />between the babble of the day <br />it sometimes somewhere <br />just breaks down <br />before the saving grace <br />of sleep it fails <br />and then and there I find <br />that once again I am <br />thinking of you<br /><br />Sean Joyce<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-let-the-book-slip-slowly-to-the-floor/
