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
and discover who or what
“Hello, anybody home?”
You say it with innocence
in case they suspect something.
Enter, shake hands
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.