Write a deadline poem.
I was supposed to be in bed sixteen minutes
ago. Grabbing the top of the comforter and
the sheet in my fist and pulling them down.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, then rolling
over and sliding my legs under the covers. As
always, using my toes to peel off my socks
and pushing them out and onto the floor. One
decorative pillow and one with a plain, cool
covering that I can fall into like a pool.
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