"Midnight" by Sara Holbrook
When it’s Sunday
and it’s midnight,
the weekend
put back in its chest,
the toys of recreation, (5)
party times
and needed rest.
When I lie in wait
for Monday
to grab me by the ear, (10)
throw me at the shower,
off to school
and when I hear
the train at midnight
from so many miles away . . . (15)
when it’s Sunday . . .
and it’s midnight . . .
the train
in passing brays and boasts
it’s steel-track-straight, (20)
on schedule,
arrival times to keep.
And I meander to its rhythm,
flopping like a fish.
Why can’t I get to sleep? (25)
Why can’t I get to sleep?
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