When skin crawls
on the inside, and thoughts flit branch to branch
a winter brown goldfinch pecking for seed

when the longest
deepest, exquisitely practiced yoga breath
exhales an inert sigh

when it is five a.m.
with stained memories frozen
on the black box stage of emptied cranium

it is time.

It is time to step into the deepest
darkest shadow,

and discover who or what
lives there.

“Hello, anybody home?”
You say it with innocence
in case they suspect something.
Enter, shake hands
or paws
with what lives within.

If it is fierce and smelly, nod then get the hell out.
If it is seductive and smirks, be guarded.
If it is deadbeat and depressed, listen.

Behind closed eyes, in shadows
wakefulness never reaches,
skulk citizens with a vote.