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.