Some Poems Come By Way Of Sleep And Dreams

Some poems come by way of sleep and
Dreams.  They show up to annoy me
As I usher my daughter to nap time,
As I doze by her side.  Or they arrive
At midnight, when I have no defense.
They wake me suddenly, make me
Lie perfectly still as I strain to decipher

The noise I think I heard.  Fragments and
Lines wander in.  I try to remain
Oblivious.  They speak, but I pretend to
Be asleep.  Like a witness to a drive-by
Shooting, I do not easily come forth.
I know who pulled the trigger, but
The shooter is too close to me,

Is the son of a neighbor, is on the
Sidewalk moving toward the Short-
Stop for chips and a drink—I dreamed it.
I woke up with the gunshot.  Or
So I tell myself.  Go back to sleep,
You don’t want to remember it.
There’s no poet living on this street!