Maybe it’s okay if I don’t sleep
Just for tonight
The windows are open, the shades making a tshhh sound in the early morning breeze, tapping gently against my window panes.
.
The highway
Miles away
Trucks gurgle past, cars glide along.
.
Maybe it’s okay if I don’t sleep.
.
Crickets sing soft in the muggy summer air.
Somewhere, I hear an owl.
.
I slip out of the cotton sheets, tread towards the window, and climb out onto the fire escape.
The metal creaks as contact is made, but I am no interloper on this rusted perch
Sometimes I visit with a clunky flashlight and a well-worn book
But not tonight.
.
The railing is slick with dew, and cold to the touch.
The chill is welcomed, and my body disengages from the stuffy room and the sweltering, suffocating sheets that smell of baking soda.
.
Staring into the hub, I remember that Nonna always said the edge of the city was the prettiest.
It seemed ludicrous to me when I first arrived.
Seeing the cracked streets and the faded shops, smelling the stale cigars that ancient men smoked in their dusty armchairs on the sidewalk.
Hearing arguments through the knobbed-kneed, skinny walls of the tenements.
Catching glimpses of Nonna’s junkie brother
Reading letters from her incarcerated sister.
.
But from here the city outshines the stars, and the lights are just as numerous.
Billboards flash in the nighttime haze, colors like a dreamy, midnight carnival.
.
Who waits up with me?
I scratch a mental list
Bakers and lawmen,
Cabbies and poets.
.
Maybe it’s okay if I don’t sleep.
.
I close my eyes and laser in on the individual chaos of the city.
I hear the violin.
The same one I hear every night, its hollow timbre floating up and over the city din.
Who plays a violin at four in the morning?
.
Who sits out on a fire escape?
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,736 Reviews
Hey there, Vivian here.
So I don't really see anything that needs to be changed. Your wording works, your descriptions are beautiful, and the poem holds that serene and calm feeling of being up at four in the morning. It has a mystifying allure to it and doesn't shy away from telling two stories in one, that's how a city is. Hope you passed your assignment.
Hi. so I guess I'll be the first to review.
I'm gonna review as I read.
"I slip out of the cotton sheets, tread towards the window, and climb out onto the fire escape."
You could have made that line a bit stronger. Comparing it with the other lines it seems a bit weak.
'The railing is slick with dew, and cold to the touch." That was really beautiful. I loved it.
Staring into the hub, I remember that Nonna always said the edge of the city was the prettiest.
It seemed ludicrous to me when I first arrived.
"Seeing the cracked streets and the faded shops, smelling the stale cigars that ancient men smoked in their dusty armchairs on the sidewalk.
Hearing arguments through the knobbed-kneed, skinny walls of the tenements.
Catching glimpses of Nonna’s junkie brother
Reading letters from her incarcerated sister."
You have mentioned Nonna. Is she a friend? an imaginary character or like granny?
"midnight carnival." IDK why but I luved that one.
"Who sits out on a fire escape?"
I think u should've used some other word instead of 'fire escape' It just takes out the flow of the poem.