Tilt-a-Whirl
A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms

Denied

I want my sleep, but I’m denied.
I won’t forgive this debt you owe
and roll you on your other side

to snores and growls and rummy-eyed
retorts. I snarl back louder: No!
I want my sleep! Since I’m denied,

I read to close my eyes, then slide
a hard-tensed elbow, jabbing low,
and roll you on your other side.

I try to calm my mind, to glide
on pleasant images, but oh!
I want my sleep, and I’m denied

until your snores, at last, subside.
I’ll try again. I’ll let you go,
not roll you on your other side

and think of my vovó, who tried
to wake vovô and failed. I know…
I want my sleep, but I’m denied.
I roll you on your other side.