Poem For When I Can’t Sleep at Night

 
After decades of bragging I do my best
work late at night since I'm a night owl, 
how is it that I'm practically nodding 
into my plate by the end of dinner, 
wanting to straightaway brush my teeth,
wash my face, and climb under the covers?
But once I'm there and close my eyes, how 
is it that something clicks the lights on 
again in my brain and it's anything but 
calmante? A friend suggested a visualization 
exercise: think of a softly lit orb just above 
my head descending as it slowly inflates, 
humming over each part of my body until 
it reaches my feet. By that time, she said, 
you'll be sound asleep. Except before
it can glide over my chest, I'm lost 
and awake in a chain of memory-associations. 
The light becomes the crackly flash cube 
on those old cameras. My mother's ordering 
everyone back on the sofa for another picture 
because she's sure her eyes were half-closed. 
The collar of my mohair sweater is itchy. 
All I want to do is drink a cold Mirinda 
Orange soda and kick off my shoes. At Gregg's, 
she chose them because they were shiny patent 
leather; maybe she felt she needed to get me 
something, just because she bought two pairs 
of pumps for herself. My mother knew she wasn't 
born with any kind of spoon in her mouth— 
she had to figure out how to get to everything 
she wanted, even if it meant staying up late 
to sew frothy dresses for wealthy matrons 
and their homely daughters, and praising 
how they looked when they came for fittings. 
She had natural style, though, and could pull
off any outfit. She knew what top to match 
with what pencil skirt without looking exactly 
like the secretaries in my father's office. Now
I'm lying in my darkened bedroom, in my head 
trying to compose tomorrow's outfit. She never 
let me wear jeans until I got to college, but now 
I wear them even when I teach: dark wash, cuffed 
at the hem, or sporting visible mending stitches 
I made with bright embroidery thread. I like to wear
low boots and throw on my most unstuffy blazer, aim 
for a look that says confident and put together, 
but not trying too hard. I've also become 
a woman who has to work hard for what she 
wants, including the sleep I crave so much.