Night Sweat

To sleep terrified turns the pillows sharp.

The air associates shallow

and any witness is too dark to know.

The clock translates, poorly, as

tentative hands make minute signals,

exchanging twelves for threes.

A glass of water, no pill.

The moon makes the mirror

knuckle white, facts face forward.

The future has been late before,

nothing slows it down like

starting over.