esra sarioglu
nights grow
with melancholic overtones
before we slip into sleep
pangs of mortality
hit my body
while I am sleeping
my mind’s eye is open
watching the thoughts
fears and wishes
roll around like black marbles
with my back
against the heater
I revise my dissertation
a warm way
to meet the critical deadline
on my scale of one to ten
numbers in between
are largely missing