Everything in 

life cycles; nothing ever leaves 

me. There are black beetles

walking the floor of our apartment

and I keep killing them.

I stay up late at night but I am not

thinking of anything in particular.

My dreams scatter, return

to the same forms. 

You pop into my head, unbidden.

You leave without warning.

Right now I have just killed another beetle

and am not quite ready to sleep.

It is 2:30 in the morning.

I know what I have to do; I don’t know

how.