Tuesday, February 27, 2007

She's Lump

There's a lump in my bed.
I can't sleep; there's a lump in my bed.
The sheets tangle around my waist as I scramble for sleep, as I perform my night-time dance, first on my back with my arms spread wide, then on my stomach with legs akimbo, then on my side crumpled up tight. The lump is my shadow in the darkness, not to be evaded. I feel it once under my hip, next behind my knee. It is a soft but persistent distraction.
I will not sleep tonight.
It will not let me sleep tonight.


There's a lump in my throat.
I can't sleep; there's a lump in my throat.
The tears well as I ache for escape from this day, as I perform my night-time ritual, first taking stock of my sadness and failures, then contemplating the disappointment and the emptiness, then indulging in the inevitable self-pity. The lump is my punishment after dark, not to be avoided. I feel it in the back of my brain, and sharply in my heart. It is a choking, melancholic distraction.
I will not sleep tonight.
It will not let me sleep tonight.


There's a lump in my breast.
I can't sleep; there's a lump in my breast.
The panic creeps in as I plead for sleep to save me, as I recite my night-time prayer, first asking for solace, then begging for compassion, then sinking into a frantic anger because it's the safest emotion in my arsenal. The lump is my secret shame, not to be ignored. I feel it under the softest skin, skin of deceit, pressing up from underneath my treacherous flesh. It is a burning, anguished distraction.
I will not sleep tonight.
It will not let me sleep tonight.


The lump in my bed, the soft distraction that keeps me from sleep, is a sock caught in the sheet, easily removed, wrinkles ironed out.

The lump in my throat, the melancholy that keeps me from sleep, is a fleeting sorrow, easily shed in a flow of tears, happiness restored.

The lump in my breast, the anguish that keeps me from sleep, is harder to shake. My fingers keep returning to the site of the betrayal, never quite believing, but always confirming that it lurks somewhere beneath the quiet surface. Tonight, I will not sleep.

8 Comments:

At 12:17 PM, Blogger K said...

I hate lumps of all kinds, but I love your writing.

 
At 2:14 PM, Blogger Martha Elaine Belden said...

this is awesome.

(and i hope it's not autobiographical)

 
At 5:51 PM, Blogger Brooklyn Frank said...

lumps give me the mumps.

 
At 7:11 PM, Blogger Diesel said...

You have a unique talent.

 
At 8:53 AM, Blogger Lorna said...

Jay, how did I miss out on this wonderful site? Can I add it to my blogroll? Some of your best here, though not as irreverent.

 
At 3:20 PM, Blogger Reya Mellicker said...

This is brilliant. My goodness you are prolific! All your blogs are great!

 
At 4:06 AM, Blogger Jay said...

Autobiographical, yes, but not the last word.

 
At 12:49 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have a Lump in my pant's!

 

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