Empty at 2 a.m.
There are flies stuck
behind my window screens
The tick tick ticking of the
hallway clock is deafening
It is 2 a.m. and I am still awake
I brew another coffee and
slink back through the shadow house,
melting beneath the rumble
of the late-night trains
I tell myself I do not need the rest
My mind floats back to the highway where
I’m standing below the overpass
Cars rush beneath the bridges
on their midnight trips to somewhere
I am a step away from vanishing in their headlights
The heater hums in time with the ghosts
who are lurking in the corners
I know that they are much too shy
to slip beneath my bed sheets
It is lonely here at 2 a.m.
The walls are curling in on themselves,
collapsing under their weight
But I am laying with the flies
in the windowsill
I am just as trapped as they are