It’s a writing-poetry-past-midnight
Kind of night
Writing until light
Hurts my eyes
And the pain
Breaks my mind
Kind of night

It’s a tossing-and-turning-while-my-forehead’s-burning
Kind of night
Trying to go to sleep with all my might
But staying awake until I see light
And then falling asleep

It’s a whispers-in-the-dark-that-will-soon-be-poems
Kind of night
When I climb and clamber out of bed
To my desk and computer
Before the poems go right back out of my head