what becomes
of all the poems
I write on my heart
as I’m falling asleep
but have no memory of
once morning rises
are they whispered
to the angels
and pixie dust
in the nether time
when the world sleeps
but magic rises
do they
fall into the hearts
of those restless souls
turning in their beds
or wandering the places
where sleep evades
do they meet other poems
written on hearts
of other poets falling
into slumber
and do they have a poetry reading
with the poems snapping
encouragement
to one another
at sleep’s microphone
