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	Since this article does not have an abstract, we have provided the first 150 words of the full text and any section headings.

So sleep
small and feral, scurries
about the floor of a dark kitchen,
eludes me, as the buses
roar by on the avenue
along the light rails
of their head lamps
and I wait
for the release of sleep.

As a young man
I could not sleep
when it was the night on call
or the night after that night or
the night immediately before. Babies
fled to the far side
of their steel-barred cribs
when I approached

out of the dark with a white tray
of sharps, intent on settling with them
and returning to sleep. Their parents
watched, thin-lipped, or left the room.
But on this night I cannot sleep

I prowl gray stairs
from ward to ward.
The parents cradling their babes
continue rocking
as I approach their chairs

as I crouch, silver-haired
to introduce myself. They relax
their shoulders; they smile,
as they should. They seem . . . [Full Text of this Article]

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