Homemade King

I lie in a bed that I made
by pushing two twins together
to form a king. I wait
for her to fill the other half.
Sometimes I sleep
on her side. If not, the sofa
swallows me up. In that place
I can hear his rumbling snores.
From a distance they form
comfortable repetition like waves
in an angry sea smacking against a dock.
My backbone aches when I sleep there,
away from my homemade king,
too many nights in a row.
Too many sleepless nights
away from her. I begin to wonder
if I have one.

The Night Steals The Moon

Insomnia stole me

and I unfortunately met my door

somewhere between yesterday

and the clouds.

Tucked myself in

between a few sheets of paper

and curled up next to a princess.

The moon disappeared

into the trees,

into the distant orange mountains.

Tufts of cloud hair

recede like hair lines

on libraries and dorms.

The sun introduced

itself to the sky,

the color of blood

before it rips through the skin

and soon the inside of your eyelids

while waking in the damp grass.