Naps and Plastic.

They Looked Like Open-Faced Baby Sandwiches.
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I miss the plastic mats sticking to M Y F A C E.
I miss holding my doll close,
kissing her audibly. Two fingers
spreading my eyelids open.
Index on my forehead, thumb on my cheek.
Fighting to stay awake--I don't know why,
what would I have missed?
My teacher would be above me, my mat
lined up under her feet. When I saw her,
she would put her finger to her lips,
tell me to "shh." I was never noisy,
just awake. Now
I H O L D M Y E Y E L I D S O P E N
struggle to finish bubbling in
all the right answers (or the wrong ones.)
I can't sleep anymore. I watch my niece, drifting
off. Imagine sitting in an A line skirt, heels
and hose trailing up to my desk, paper clips
--a little girl trailing her eyes
F R O M M Y P E E P T O E
to my lips. "Shhh." Sharpening pencils,
I'll watch them. Serinity and boredom.
Drooping eyelids.
Even the pencil shavings would interest me.