Another Bad Night Poem by Leslie Philibert

A black hood has been forced over my head,
a thousand unborn children sing in my garden,
I cannot be switched off.

Voices rough with tobacco are planning my demise,
they lurk full of malice before my house,
a distant televsion frees waves of laughter.

The darkness starts from the ground and reaches
to the top of the sky, I wan`t to tear out the stars
but they are too hot, like lightbulbs.

My stolen sleep has been pushed like a dummy
into an old suitcase, it rests ignored on a lighted pavement
next to the brumming diesel of a standing bus.