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Counting the Nights


I connect to my body, to my eyes,

my breath quickens. Shoving my


eyelids open,

I’m awake.

I connect

to face washing, toothbrushing, undressing.

My eyelids flutter;

I feel my eyelashes tap the pillow,


I connect to my breath

as it slows, as it evens.


I sleep.

I connect to the needed blankness of sleep. 


I connect to the colorful, noisy,

intrusive dreams, 


disturbing, constant, confusing, unceasing.

These hours, this night,


this week, this month, all of my nights. 

I scratch marks on the wall, next to my bed. 


Five dreams tonight – one

tolerable, four horrendous.


Seven dreams (I wake up crying),

Next night three, I screamed myself awake.


I count the nights, tonight and every night. These days and nights,

weeks and months, this time, this year.


I count eight days of Passover,

then forty-nine days of the Omer.


This year – these dreams.

I keep counting.


I connect to my body. my breath quickens,

I open my eyes, awake.

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