Sleeping …if only

Supposed refuge of sleep is a farce

Threadbare sheets and industrial blanket

Wrapped cocoon-like around her

Eyes & ears are covered, blocking out the lights

Incessant, abrasive, superficial chatter

Steelly focus on the audible

Persistent push of cool forced air

Permits initial slumber.

Cautiously choreographed maneuvers

Required throughout the night

Repositioning from one aching hip

To the other, restlessly back

Burrowing into her synthetic refuge

Blocking out internal & external noise

To achieve a modicum of rest

She awakens frustratingly early

Wearily

Attuned to clanking keys

Trudging boot

Radio crackles preceeding

Blaring loudspeaker

Dragging her raggedly upright

“Zero 515 Standing Count!”

If only she emerged

From makeshift crysallis

Beautifully & wonderfully transformed.

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