I Remember Sleep
as if it were a dream
explained to me by someone else,
a chalice described to the dying
whose lips it will never touch.
I walk under and through it,
grasping at tendrils like lifelines.
They evade my every attempt,
wave as I collapse beneath them,
exhausted and broken, but still
If you have any comments on this poem, A.J. Huffman would be
pleased to hear from you.