Insomnia as Art

Adam O. Davis

        A distress
of ambulances

                   Snow like

She called
love "lead

                              left by
                                  the backdoor.

Like cake
in a casket,

                              she made mud
                  of my hospitality.

No one has
a dime for
the telephone.

             No one holds
               the crossing
               guard's hand.

                            No one wants
                   a knuckle sandwich,
              even if they ask for one.