The Unbeliever Sleeps

[charisma]

From the warmth of a Sunday bed
I hear churchbells
calling the penitent
to prayer.

I roll over
cover my head
with the pillow I'm allergic
to , more in need
of rest than
salvation.

On waking
I will only lull my
mind with mindless
thoughts, somnambulant
lullabies that keep the edges
dull and manageable.

Hush, Hush
right this second news
is being made, but it is
in the vague land of Elsewhere.
Elsewhere cannot
affect me.

Here, where you told me
"I want a kind girl" when what
you meant was "I want
the kind of girl who tears
at the throat of the world
with sparkly perfect teeth."

That isn't me.

I am the girl walking
with left shoes in pairs
on tired feet
lacking direction.

I am the girl dreaming
vividly, living anonymously
dedicating songs to herself
so that soundwaves, at least
will speak her forgotten name.

Hush, Hush
the churchbells ring
offering a promise:

You can believe in anything before you wake.