Tonight
I want to reject the whir
Of the fan that sits on the floor.
I'd be grateful if the creaks
Living in the ceiling would suffocate.
I want to hear an absence of
The usual comforts and distractions.
Tonight I want nothing,
An impossibility—there's always
Something
And even if there was nothing at all,
I'd be tossed into everything
By a necessary alarm.
That is something too.