Heather Sager
Can’t Sleep
Through my window
the train horn blurts
Yellow and red leaves
touch the screen
Imagine a troupe of
elephants playing
some kind of jazz horn
when the trains pass
I try to scavenge
an afternoon nap, but can’t sleep
The train wakes me up
night and day
My thoughts wake me up
I wonder about people
who love fog horns
Maybe, wrecked upon bed,
listless, I will come to love
the noise of my life
Today, I will walk out
into the drizzle that’s started
Find my knit cap
A park that’s green
Heather Sager lives in Illinois where she writes poetry and fiction. Most recently, she has contributed poetry to Bending Genres, the New Feathers Anthology, The Basilisk Tree, Creative Flight, Moss Puppy Magazine, Backwards Trajectory, 7th-Circle Pyrite, and more journals.
