Easier To Sleep

She pulls a piece of string tight
around her finger until it starts
to feel like it’s dying.
The voices over the intercom
tell them they should feel good
about the day, and some of them
do with small designs painted
across their faces.
Hers is blank and this includes
her expression. All she’s able to
think about are her cigarettes.
They’re in a box with a picture
of a half dead bat on the front.
The left wing was only bones
and cartoon blood that looked
like ketchup on a french fry.
Her neighbors flicked paper
footballs over her head,
but she didn’t mind it.
The sound they made when
they cut through the air was relaxing.
They were a small fan in a hotel room
full of heat, and made it so much
easier to sleep.

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