Going Crazy in Mallorca

I know how it is done.
It begins so innocently.

The full, silver moon enters the window
and blinds me while I sleep,
blinds me awake, startled and disoriented.
I change my position, so the moonlight
does not pierce directly into my dreaming eyes.
Now it is everywhere.
It fills my room
with strength and certainty.
Crickets, who know all the words of the same song,
sing in verdant harmony.
Bells on faraway goats echo stupidly in the dark.
A phantom wind slams a door, rattles hinges.

Because I smell the decay of autumn's fields,
splattered figs in a moist heap,
I think it is the odor of my own blood.
A snake slithers, silent under my bed.
Its scales become my skin.
My head spins with sleeplessness.
Incessant memories of the golden day
consume my mind.

Will I ever sleep again?
Or must I wait until the nightingale's
song ceases, the darkness spills into pink sunrise,
and my insanity falls silent from the sky?

<< Back to I Want You To Know