The 3am Poem

bedsheets

At 3am: I write about you.

I’ve lost you.

Sometimes we’ve just made love.

Photo: Hannah Schwartz

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City Dawn

I recall on a Sunday morning
in NYC, how your dog was
dreaming Wyomings he’d
never seen. I wondered

how dogs look at a TV and
bark at bison, but not at the
furniture ads. Just funny is
all – how quickly dogs

fall asleep anywhere, everywhere,
all places home. I was happy and
suddenly knew it. It was 5am,
the city that never sleeps wouldn’t

be awake for an hour or more. The
moon gave way. And of dawn’s
approach, I thought, No. You can’t
take this from me. This is mine.