1 AM

So much noise at 1 AM
crowds its way into the quiet space
between the covers in the dark

A television
jammed with static, the mind
is the antennae

Bent in the storm,
twisted out of tune and
slippery with rain

The remote has fallen
between the bed and the wall
and I cannot reach it

So I watch the dots
dance and take form and
expand into stars

And I write.