I cannot obey the call
while there is work to be done.
I cannot follow welcome rest
or succumb to sleep’s tender temptations
until the night waxes full.
My eyes are propped open by cotton balls
which blur in them and render the world opaque.
The synapses have slowed, often
their messages lost somewhere along the way.
The gentle hush seduces me
and some gentle god wipes away the whirring thoughts
as my head droops.
But I cannot obey the call just yet
for there is still aught to be accomplished.
I shan’t allow that blissful ease
‘till shadows fall long
and the moon passes the peak of its arc
across the spangled heavens.
I cannot obey the call of sleep until
I finish this woeful tedium called homework.
