Broken Pieces

Sleeping in broken pieces
the rusted wreckage
of an unmade night
where chunks of verse
break loose
and slide to surface
like bubbles
from the bottom of a spoon

Something meant to be said
and I've no idea
by whom
An insistence of words
treading my dreamy water
surfacing, rolling over
to clear my mind
only for a troubled moment

Pulling on a robe, I turn on lights
give up and give in
to scraps made meaningless
by my awakening
A search among headstones
of tilted metaphor
knowing there is something
here that is not mine

What brought me wide awake
pestering a dozen times
lingers, hidden
and forces me to write in circles
waiting it out
unable to sleep until
what is not me
finally shows its face