Sometimes I cannot sleep.
Earthquakes burrow into sheet fibres,
knees meet the radiator, the chunks clunk
then chip away, like the roller coaster thoughts
that spin around the room.
My head smacks pillows, and I remember
all the faces I scanned today,
up/down; they sighed boredom --
and had eyeballs where mattresses should be.

Fingertips feel sore, they say sorry
for touching you. I only wanted to see
what your heart felt like on the inside
but these hands did not belong
blood-drenched in you. Right then I decided --
I will never go to the dentist ever again.

He compliments my oral hygiene
as he asks me to open wide. It makes me sick
to bear my teeth like coffee cups to the world.
My spit embarrasses me, reminds me
of all the words caught inside my palate
that I could not say.  

I had a dream last night. God came to me and said
‘eleven thirty and something
will happen‘. He showed me you in my room
like it was October, apple blossoms were by the window
and white strips down the walls,

and I said, ‘dear God, I am sorry
but I do not believe in you‘. And he smiled
with a grin like train tracks.

I thought of you from five PM til eleven thirty
as if you were my white-toothed miracle.
It's eleven thirty seven now
and there are only cavities
where love should be.

I thought, ‘God,
you must like to play games too’

or maybe he knew that the undersides of my skin
look like ash trays and dental floss,
or maybe he knew that I have holes
that need to be filled in,

or maybe he just knew
that I needed a reminder
of what hope really feels like.