sleep

sleep

doesn't exist

the closest i get to sleep

is when i stop talking

but then

      there's the washer gurgling with the new load

      there's the dryer tossing the clothes I have to fold before I sleep

      there's the dishwasher humming with dishes I didn't want to wash

      there's the dog noisily licking the floor, her toy, herself

      there's the puppy snoring louder than grandma

      there's honey, asleep now for hours, mumbling as he tosses

      there's the voices in my head

                                                                  pleading

                                                                                     for a moment to stop, to think, to rest

but the noises push on

      the washer beeps

      the dryer buzzes

      the dishwasher drains

      the dog barks

      the puppy whimpers

      honey asks me to turn off the light

      the voices laugh

as if sleep is actually an option