Exhaustion

Yesterday was weird.
There are those days
when surrendering

is both the only
sensible option
and itself exhausting.

The particulars--
having to do
with corroded plumbing,

senseless bureaucracy,
alarming financial threats,
and so forth,

each issue unrelated
to every other, except
perhaps in the realm

of the gods and little
fishes who control us--
don't really matter.

But the insomnia
that resulted,
that matters,

that matters in every
muscle and mental
effort made today,

and the only recompense
the staggering brain
can remember

is a bleary-eyed view
across the blankets
of mother and child

head to head
in dreamy profiles
in pale grey morning light.