Disquietude

The wind comes in the window

with a wispy, low sound

like breath rushing down a flute making an off-key sound.

Something is not quite right.

The fan overhead clicks and murrs, not balanced correctly,

off kilter and loud.

Only the steady make no sound.

I hear an airplane that draws near and a loud hum fills my head

with unkind thoughts of explosions and turmoil and death.

My mind is loose.

Tonight, or always?

The moon is not full, but is a cresent that looks like a pick at the end, something to prick at you

when you've forgotten

to pay attention

or have been lulled by ease.

Nights like this cover the stars.

The cat rumages and patters

across the floor,

playing on her own

to prevent her loneliness

when mum and dad are

under covers.

The night is cold despite the sheets.

Meandering thoughts

pass through my dreamscape,

all disjointed and bouncing

from the future to the past

to the Neverland.

Sleep is superficial at this time.

Is anything for real?

The recent passing of my uncle

has unsettled me,

reminding me of

impermanence

and loss

and lifelessness.

Thoughts like these we push away.

The bed moves as we stretch

and turn

and nothing - body or mind or dreamy ghost -

is still or calm.

The night feels untethered from the day.

What if I wake

and everything is changed,

or all is gone,

or my mind cannot remember anything anymore?

Everything has no safety.

In a cold sweat,

my mind is feverish and feels

like the flu that has not yet come,

and I'm drenched in menopause and existentialism,

even as I lie unawake.

Our biology is so fragile.

It is October,

the reason for all of this.

The month where life withers, witches emerge,

and night is longer than the day.

One day we will see black as beautiful.

I'm dreaming, dreaming, dreaming and existence fuzzes and blends with the Otherworld.

Night is loose

and sleepconscious is slippery.

Don't take too much for granted.

Down now, heavy slumber

and my body weights itself

and breath is heavy,

most things imperceptible.

Sleep restores 'cuz we forget the day.

Once asleep, I disconnect from the the unease fringed with fear

and I lie in placid calmness,

sensing safety.

I forget that something felt unkind.

Yet, still, though I am sleeping,

I know, and won't forget, that

something still

is just

not quite right.