Poem: Insomnia After the Conversation

I wrote this poem about thirteen years ago for a graduate poetry class I was taking at Rutgers in Camden.  The poetry professor made the commment that the poem, particularly the last line, was reminiscent of Sappho Sappho: A New Translation. 

Insomnia After the Conversation

This is whole,

right here, right now.

Kill me then.  I can't breathe

with the night bearing down

and down, giving birth to nothing

but minutes.

I know.  Pain now, wisdom later.

f that.  I've only got one here,

one now.  The grand lie:

I breathe, eat, sleep.  I can survive.

Enough.

Make all the whiteness disapper; I can't take this

void.

Your voice. You convinced me no one is real.

Good job.  now I believe in death, in loss, in change.

I hate you, or what I've made of you, full of messages.

Damn.  Where's the source?  Where's the all?

My pillow is flat.  The blankets twisted.

The moon is too bright.  I can't sleep.