laying in bed,

insomnia gnawing at the backs

of my eyes,

i note that the darkness

isn’t black

or inky

or truly all that whole.

its thin,

dimmed colors coming through,

just dimmed and faded

browns and blues,

shadowy tones overtaking the room.

perhaps the sun rises

sooner than i thought.

Poem. Published in Red Wheelbarrow Vol. 22, 2018.