Wakeful

I curled up in bed 
in the normal way, 
two successive pillows 
between my legs,
on my right side.

My heart mirrors my mind,
each racing the other 
to earn their extra dinner.

The former demands movement 
for its vigorous drumbeat, 
the latter takes inputs
and builds spiderwebs 
in which I am the fly.

Thank you mid-afternoon coffee
for this additional hour
for this refrigerator plunder
for this poem.