The light from the streetlamp

The light from the streetlamp

is a yellow bar across the mattress.

I can’t stop the ticking in my head

or the way this thread is scraping

against the bone of my ankle.

I pinch the snag between my nails.

The 200-count hem begins to bunch,

a white spiral of tension

rippling toward the center of the bed.

If I pull any harder, the whole thing

might finally come apart.