Even as a kid I never fully believed that sleep would come. I would lie awake waiting suspiciously. But under the covers I found a cozy chill, the warm dark of a toothless maw, the tick of my pulse, a sneeze & an ache, a day home from school, a place to breathe secrets or to weep, farts, fears, oblivion, the occasional breast feather of a goose, & a far-off love whose only unchanging characteristic was a penchant for walking everywhere in bare feet. Her name, I suppose, was Sleep.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).