Insomnia

by Kristin LaFollette

It is dark—

I have a camera to

capture still shots

of the city and your

brain before it changes

and forms into:

Lights—

Green and red from traffic

White from the street

I jump from a concrete

pillar, the camera sitting

heavy against your watery

chest, the lens cap still on;

it is dark:

The flash capturing our

bodies suspended in the

air as we jump,

cold

oxygen

in our

mouths

Your lips, blue

Me in a red sweater,

you in black, a figure

fading into the air—

Invisible body,

nocturnal animal