when one lay sleepless

by Geoff Wells

in summer sheets
half-cocked blinds seeping
an intrusive moon
of oblique chevrons
onto undulating intellect

believes it can understand
how important moments
sometimes go a little bit wrong

such as when Death
attempting to whisper in one’s ear
should have a stutter and a lisp
completely destroying the phonetic beauty
of one’s given name
inked into the pages of the eternal