Awake

The muffled roar of midnight closing in

On the rooftop where a murder of crows

Congregate, her top is wet, her skin

Sticks to the sheet, the tangling bed clothes

Strangling claustrophobia, the heat’s

Chattering, wide awake, the constant hum

Of audible emptiness in the streets

A sharp pitch and the banging of a drum

The pulse of her heart in the static night

When she is alone with no one to call

Under the monotony of moonlight

Glowing coldly like a fluorescent ball.