Night has awakened with its
rustling claws; searing shearing;
meager remnants of sleep

Soon the bins of home unworthy
thoughts, littering streets of forehead
would stench signs
that undo fastenings
“of happily ever afters”

Last of fires from your shoulders
where my head had rested once
offered some hope
to wrest out winter
from the frozen lines
of fate

In that endless jungle of insomnia
someone laughed
I washed and enshrouded
Another corpse of laughter

Perhaps nights always
have the last laugh

Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Martin

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/awake-34/