no (wo)man’s land

Occupied on other fronts,

I leave my half undefended.

He is first to the field and

begins to invade.

Reconnaissance reveals

his left arm has captured

the high ground of my pillow.

I strategically position myself

across my remaining territory,

but his right knee juts

into my back

like a flying wedge,

forcing my retreat to the mattress edge.

Shivering, I scavenge

for warming reinforcements,

but his slumber-laden limbs

are an immobile blanket blockade.

My only ally: blackout conditions.

I yawn,

close my eyes.

Rumbling like heavy artillery,

whistling like an incoming shell,

the snoring commences.

His siege against

my side of the bed

is complete.

The battle is lost.

In the war on fatigue,

I (can’t) sleep with the enemy.

Poetry inspired by this week’s ultimate question: whose side are you on? Is it too much to ask to be on my own side?