Fall Asleep
Reason floods in with dawn light,
tips into the place I deserted
only hours before,
and overturns the breakfast table
I shared with a famous actress
as well as the many treasure chests
I had ducked in and out of brambles to secure,
but they did not spill their glittering contents on the cobblestones
but rather gave way to birdsong.
I change my mind every morning when the dream facts,
a prioris like my parrot feet or moon gravity,
dissolve with sugar in my tea.
To suspend reason,
to give up on your goals,
or worries, for that matter:
fall asleep.
By: MaryAnne Hafen
MaryAnne Hafen is a conservationist with an affinity for desert plants. She lives on the edge of the Great Basin with an engineer, a misnomer cat, and too many houseplants. Her poetry has been published by Quarter Press and Querencia Press.