by Siddiq Islam,
(1:48 am)

Slumped on the hard edge of a long day,
My tired arms spindle like crusty crab’s legs.
My brain has dried out by now of things to say,
Poking around at what’s left of the dregs.

Tried eating, the heating, unplugging the buzzes,
Tried not to feel through the weak mattress the springs,
And I tried counting sheep, but all that that does is
To keep me enthralled by mundane, woolly things.

More drunks out galooting later than they should,
Another full night of restless fever.
Your frame sticks out – I feel your wood.
My dear university bed, you’re not helping eiver.