Backtrack Poem by Lauren Michaels

Is my mother asleep in her bed?
I think it might be late
And I attempt to gather my wits enough
To wonder where I should be in the morning.
Even the distance until morning.

But I seem to have lost track of reality
Of which page I was on.
I've lost sense of the words for the letters
and the plot seems to keep just winding on.
So I calmly decide to let it.

I turn my head back to my melancholy.
Back to the depths of self.
Stop searching for the cause to all this effect
What is incomprehensible is irrelevent.
So we calmly decide to let it.