Saturday's Poem: Things

Another poem about insomnia...I'm sorry, but sleep (or my difficulty in attaining it) seems to be an obsession with me lately. Actually, it's more than just lately. This post, Midnight at the Oasis, from five or six years ago makes it clear that the relationship between sleep and me has been rocky for some time. Anyway, today's poem is short but makes its point.

THINGS by Fleur Adcock

There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.

There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,

committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things

than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.

It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in

and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse

and worse.