Sleepless night, by Rachel Piercey

Three a.m., in bed,
and though the lamp’s neck
is twisted back

the light’s still harsh,
stripping my fictions
of red lips and composure

right back to character
as first conceived:
a few adjectives

before they’re fleshed out,
sketching me
in a single moment —

happyincautiousamazed
words that will never
see the light of day.