My G-d, You watch me wake to wet sheets

clinging to my shoulder. How can I sweat in stifling

air conditioning? Those seconds after waking, before

my muscles will move—where do they come from?

The images, like promises, how do they become my dream?

You must know the scenes distress

me, how they taunt the day like a hair

stuck in my throat. I can’t be awake,

I can’t sleep. What I see, either

way, is unpleasant. What comfort do You offer,

oh G-d, a woman trying to sleep in her own bed?




Tovah Leah Green earned an MFA in poetry from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and another in fiction from the University of Mississippi. Her work has appeared in such literary journals as Poet Lore, Florida Review, and Natural Bridge. Currently, she lives in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, and commutes to Elseworlds, where she is the Membership Engagement Manager for the National Association for Professional Superheroes.