Insomnia

Gingerly, pushing the heat pack

Sweeping the floor of the cavern 

Between the two bedsheets 

My leg extends itself another time

Then recoils quickly at the thought

Of meeting an undesirable crawling host,

Being either spider or scorpion.

It does not matter to my phobia 

Once awake, I can't even sleep any longer

Despite continuous  yawning

Aggravating my already severe insomnia 

Switching on the light

Reading seems the only solution

To carry me safely to the other side

Of this endless nightmare 

To the morning were the bottle brush

Will sweep gingerly and carefully

The inside cave of my boots. 

Lucette c. Bailliet

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