A Fair Weather Fight For Sleep And Dreams Poem by Stephen Thomas

Clock strikes three
(What happens at three?)
No morphing
No monsters
Coming up from the sea
(Only me…)
Only me on my floor
Pondering sleep
That stock-laden storehouse
Of numbered sheep
(They leap…)
They leap and frolic and dance
Even in their cold chambers
Away from my glance
My glance never goes there
No wandering dream
Only thin cans of fuel
Yes, sweet kerosene
(I laugh…)
I laugh as they go up in flames
Releasing the beast
That mashes and maims
Clock strikes three
And the monster is me