It Wakes Me Up

I can’t escape.

I close my eyes, slow down my brain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

My pencil starts to scrape.

I try to wait until later to explain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I try to let it down.

I try, just once, to douse the flames.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

It burns with verbs, with adjectives, with nouns.

It burns with a singular aim.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I get from bed and walk.

I walk through streets and yards and under the rain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I listen to my own voice talk.

I listen to the rain and each raindrop sounds the same.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I go to school and rest.

I go to class and try to lay my mental claims.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I take a test.

I drag a thought through too, but drag in vain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I go to work and try to smile.

I get to work just to hear the same refrain.

It wakes me up and calls my name.

I’ll be asleep and ready to leave.

I’ll be ready to leave and take all that I’ve claimed.

It will wake me up and call my name.

I’ll pull the veil over my face and breathe.

It will wake me up and call my name.

June 8