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When The Sheep Won [Poetry from College]

October 21, 2018

wide awake at 4 a.m. starting at the ceiling

marveling at its blank emptiness--long wide empty spaces

devoid of thought that swirl

while I count sheep leaping over moons one by one

comforted at the thought that I must be asleep 

before the counting ends

beyond infinity         I almost smile

at 348 sheep

 

I'm still frozen in place

eyes fixated, mesmerized by the still room that encapsulates

all 348 of me spinning

 

After the sheep win

I imagine lullabies sung softly

a mother hushes and scrubs my back

but I cannot be calmed

 

I stop counting

and sink deep into my pillow

hiding my face beneath the covers

curled up like a deranged lullaby

 

The sheep grin with sharp yellow teeth

and I waddle like a zombie

out of bed

 

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