3am poems

weekly poem(s) | for those who can't fall back asleep

But First Dear Reader, A Note To You:

How are all of you doing? Woe is me, because I have been sick all week! And sleep has been restless. No one likes waking at 3AM to deal with a stuffy nose, but there was something interesting about catching (feverish) glimpses of the world late at night.

So, here are some poems I wrote in the middle of the night, while drinking mint tea until I could go back to sleep.

I scribbled the first drafts of these in longhand, as bursts and fragments in my notebook. After revisiting these notes with the (exhausted) clarity of daytime and editing them (very heavily), I decided that there were three poems in here. 3 AM. 3 poems. Let’s begin.

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3 AM Poems

1.

lonely hour

the ribs of the night

grow out and wide around 

these vacant places

faraway 

white stars 

gleam from the slick mouth of the dark 

here and there 

a weak light 

flashes 

through the soundless, black thickets 

as though the shadows 

parted their hair 

to reveal a long, pale neck. 

2.

3AM. i wake up in a place

where tomorrow has not yet happened 

the alarm on the nightstand 

has not yet rung 

the newspaper is not at the door 

the milk has not arrived 

the kettle is cold, empty  

the tea is yet to be made

the songbirds are quiet

i am awake

but i have not yet become.

3.

sleepless again 

i switch on the small light

i heat water on the stove

i step into the cold air of the balcony

touch the wrinkled fabric 

of a day that has been wrung out

beaten on flat stone

and squeezed dry 

it’s late 

the hours hang off the clothesline

i listen to them flap in the wind.

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The past week, I remembered this tip from Joyce Carol Oates’ Masterclass on writing:

Which is to write in compromised states of mind, like when you’re sick, tired, sleepy or feverish.

Writing this way, she suggests, can bring out new or surprising ideas, especially when you revisit them at a later point. At the time I wasn’t sold: I’m pretty non functional when I’m sleepy and even more so when I’m sick. No way I could write anything of substance!

But there I was, awake and shivering at 3AM. And I thought to myself: if Joyce Carol Oates swears by it, there’s got to be something to it after all.

Talk to me in the comments: Do any of you write when you are in ‘compromised’ states of mind? And did the results surprise you? 

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Before You Go…

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Finally, here’s what I’ve been enjoying on Substack this week:

1. ‘She borrowed my shorts and found a fingernail in the pocket’ by

   Alex here

She borrowed my shorts and found a fingernail in the pocket

2. ‘Read this if you’re terrified’ by

   Kaothar Kadir

read this if you’re terrified

I’ll be back with a new poem next week. Until then, take care.

Love,

Anagha