The Overnight Visitor

My mind is treacherous,

I am awake as you sleep in the next room,

I can hear the crinkle of the sleeping bag,

As you shift on the floor,

Making room for my cat to sleep by your knees.


I know that I fall asleep,

Because I dream,

Active dreams that are hard to wake from,

About falling and running and leaving;

Childhood nightmares appear,

I awaken tired and sore-eyed.


I’m used to being alone in my home,

No one to disturb me,

Leaving me to snore and sigh,

The gingerly pitter-pat of my mind,

And the blissful sleep of solitude.

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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