Apologies to John Milton
When I consider how my nights are spent,
That time when ev’ry itch and pinch and ache
Emerge from day’s locked caves—freed to torment
This agéd remnant—force dry bones awake,
I wonder at that human mystery,
The special perils sleeplessness impose,
Fragmented flotsam borne on history,
The painful memories that wreck repose.
The broken screen door latch, the house needs paint,
The toilet that won’t flush, the stopped up sink,
My lapsed morality (those wretched taints),
The fractious hostile world’s consuming stink—
The gods will understand, nor be appalled
By my fond respite: pharmaceuticals.
Marvin Klotz (3/17/12)