I Can't Sleep

‘Anomoly’ bothers me,
as does the forgetful player
who cannot say why parks are happy places.

My fatal flaw, paraded.

Harlequin laughs are entertaining,
‘Grins sound truly!’ But I hear the
sulfer torrents off my roof. I know
the drowning on streets outside.

Simulation emulates? The
clown’s mocking makes
the babe to float? Gives him
light, so he won’t sink?

I cannot say.
I think I knew.
I am no longer a child. I do not
understand water.

The unknown and forgotten
are not a bad plan.
(Unless one understands
he should remember.)

I now remember, and hear the light.

Why is it when another shakes, the ringing
of the gold brightening what was always there,
does it then slam silent, dank, and dark,
because for so long I was unaware?