Poem from Henry Bladon

as an insomniac

sleep is elusive

so as you lie there

in your bed you

allow your mind

you wander through

the streets of Prague

or the Venetian piazza

and then sweat through

the New York streets

on dog-day parades,

all of which is better

than wedging your eyelids

open with a used toothpick.

BIO: Henry Bladon is based in Somerset in the UK. He is a writer of short fiction and poetry with a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Birmingham. He is the author of several poetry collections and his work can be seen in Poetica Review, Pure Slush, Truth Serum Press, Lunate, and O:JA&L, among other places.

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