The Nightstand

Miles past the nightstand over the plastic water bottle. the Ambien pill dispenser and the soul-bruised eye shades. An arrhythmic clock knits needles of silence together. Turning on the lampshade, its circle of yellow light attaches itself to my night-blanked face. a damp mattress molding heavy thoughts that struggle to climb dream-tossed blankets. On its four arthritic legs, the nightstand's tour of duty continues patrolling one old man's conflict with doubt and faith.