When you’re tired
everything’s worse.
Glimpsing a rogue hair
spurting from the side
of your chin is like seeing
the end of the world.
Have a nap your inner voice
instructs you, have one now,
lay down and float into the cloud
of dreams you should have had
last night when the heat
kept you tossing with worry
about people you love but can’t
help, can’t fix, if only they’d listen,
but you’re too tired to grouse
so you dance naked
through the house, singing
loud enough to wake the dead.
Haven’t they slept long enough?
Time to get them out of bed.