Sleepless within the stronghold of night glow,
I spot its head poke up behind my weary bedmate.
Darling is dutiful, well-worn, but smug,
with a soft throttle made to squeeze,
too wanton for marriage and too wary for whoredom,
but perceptive without gold ring or red carpet.
And its button eye shines briefly, as if to say Watch.
And each flicker honors her movement.
And each new position is an eye opener.
The long-lived companion, the queer, patched thing
held head-scissored, wedged in the southland,
this fellow traveler--strange, fuzzy thingamabob--
is eyewitness to this night's desolation.
6 hours ago