I wake in the dark of night
not to hamster in my
brain
just the tap tap and ping
that would ring in me long ago
too vague to pin down
as anything more than
wind scraping leaves
against the windows
haunting no less
the spirit rising out
of the mist of sunset
to return to Earth again
when at last the sun rises once
more the tap tap tap
like inpatient fingernails
the ping staring down deep
in my bones
felt more than heard
an ache rather than a memory
of things I cannot
reverse
that exist
persist and remain
lodged inside me
like a bone if only
half swallowed
I can't spit up or digest
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