by Gregory Orr
Is it me tossingor is this beda small boatin an unprotected cove? Haulanchor I suppose.That is: turn ona light and readall night. Bookopen on my knees;its pages: whitesails spread.
Fleeing hell,that's in the head.
Source: Acquainted with the Night: Insomnia Poems. Ed. Lisa Russ Spaar. Columbia UP, 1999. 36.