by Steven Gulvezan
Four in the morning I arise without
Warning to confront the ghosts and
Demons the angels the small bizarre
Things that appear only after three
O’clock and before five o’clock
Feeling perhaps with justification
That this is their righteous time and
Not mine—
Still I arise and offer them
A convivial hello and perhaps a small
Piece of my life to chew over—
My demons nod, accepting my token
Payment and quietly observe me from
The far corner of my room…
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