i am the many-faceted diamond of your insomnia
and i cut away at the basalt of your head to find
lava on the inside. deer leap out, covered in soot.
a flock of birds with wings aflame. the first sign
is always the animals. the ancient turtle that strains
to move quickly, quicker, legs lifting against the weight
of memory. the squirrels with tails like tiny burning
brush fires. your head is erupting, spewing forth
your past in blackened char, your present molten
rock. you destroy with no intention of recreating.
the animals will never return. you will wake light
as pumice, empty in the sunlight.