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About This Poem
January 1, 2007
My list is long today.
But the voice says sleep --
Don't engage,
Don't create,
Don't make the bed --
Sleep
Begone sunshine.
My mind falls to empty thought --
Is this dementia?
Will my mind curl up
and sleep to death?
Will I follow my mother into the depths
of lost thought and fabricated reality?
Will I know my husband
when I see him again?
Will I even find him?
Sleep
The depression lulls me back into myself
dulling the memory of lost tomorrows,
begun today,
nine years ago.
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