What I Must Look Like Falling Asleep

My eyelids seal that barrier
between light and darkness,
reality and nonsense.
An ending, a new beginning.
The midnight struggle begins:
punching my pillows,
the constant escape from the sinkhole,
which my body brought upon itself,
the need to stretch my bones,
their joints, puzzle pieces
scattered across my mattress.
Sleep, my reward upon fitting them,
kicking, fighting off the covers--
sometimes friend, sometimes enemy.
I try to even out my mountainous hips with a pillow.
Cool spots temporarily relieve burning skin,
body parts dangling off the edge of the bed.
Side roll is too much effort--like asking a bear,
"Move a little to the left, please?"
Stomach hugs the bed. Flip.
Feet look awkardly perpendicular.
First position, second, third fourth, fifth.
Exhausted from trying to sleep,
as peace filters to my muscles,
I horizontally stand on one leg;
it is much easier after dark.
Now in passe, about to pirouette,
arms gracefully curved above my head,
the ballerina I can be in my sleep.

Through the 3rd Eye was supported in its inception by the Grand Rapids Humanities Council and is currently made possible by continued volunteer effort and private support. Copyright 2013.