I pour a glass of wine
light a candle
my work clothes fall to the floor.
I attempt comfort. 

It isn't clear yet,
(to me)
how to write in the calm
in the peace.

(what is this soundlessness)

I eat an entire bowl 
of popcorn
I watch the sun recede.
I search for words.

It's 11:00 now.
It was so quiet
I almost missed
the
change.

My hands are clammy
my body overheated.
I am sweating.
Is it muggy in here?

(am I searching for a problem)

Shift change.
The new guards
fresh pairs of eyes
I am angry 
I ever let the others past.

I look out the doors
its dark
I still have not
put into words
the feeling
of content 
awareness.

(hope feels irrelevant)

I'm going to write
a poem about you.

It won't be a poem
of longing
or molding 
or pain.

It will be a piece
about you.
And of what is.

My glass 
sits half
empty.
The candle 
dances.

I thank the changing
of the guards.

(writing of you
makes you real)