Insomnia 3: Tutu Where Are You?
It’s just me marooned in the endless
Night again, dreamless me and a bouquet of #2 pencils
Stuffed into a chipped Talavera cup on my nightstand altar,
Offering a stack of crosswords burned by
My calderic brain and a Denali of paper-flagged cookbooks
Never to be consummated, and a plate of chocolate chip crumbs
Ingested in honor of Tutu, winged lion and protector of sleep
And bad dreams, who, as usual, has not shown up in this nightmare.
Day 10 of NaPoWriMo and I decided to bag today’s prompt in favor of an acrostic inspired by an Egyptian god who is clearly not on duty around here, and is not to be confused with retired Anglican Bishop and South African leader against apartheid, Desmond Mpilo Tutu, who deserves a rest.
Thanks Wikipedia for the photo of the other Tutu.––
I am loving the poetry, who knew.
I also think of my bedstand, and several other places, as mini altars. Looking for ward to tomorrow!
Thanks, Kate. Are you by any chance an insomniac?