After my 3:30 AM pee,
(as if I needed more evidence proving
I had survived another REM DEATH,)
I lay on my left side
rocked by a life pulse
banging in my ribs,
roaring through my ear,
a slow-mo jackhammer.
So it seems, again,
I made it through
the shrapnel
of uninterpretable dreams,
of the carrosell of anatomical devolution,
of the psychological shardings
that all good nights sleeps entail.
and woke to piss and pulse.

The fragments now glued together,
it’s safe to assume
that after all that
nocturnal trauma,
no day lit drama will be
insurmountable.