Oct 25, 2020

Two Poems


It's been a long night tonight; I have sent in 

my application for a sleep permit hours ago, 

I-444. I got a notification it is being processed 

at the Nebraska Center for Insomniac Aliens. 

They first returned it saying I checked 

the wrong application type in my answer 

to question F-2. They even returned 

the check VOIDED. 

I've put on my nightly dress

thirteen times, trying to trick my body 

into tricking this 24/7 capitalist cycle 

into pausing. I refiled my application, 

this time ticking the right choice. 

I folded the clouds into paper planes, 

I waited for the rain to cum in my mouth,

I counted all the sheep in this nation.

Maybe I licked the wrong stamp,

maybe the postman is still at the trap 

house. Or maybe they don't speak

English in Nebraska.