The Night Run

The room is so quiet it feels like a threat.

The sheets are heavy and clinging to my legs,

a damp map of where I’ve been.

I must have been running from a debt in the dark.

In the glass of the window,

my forehead has a shine that isn't mine.

The gray V-shape darkening my collar

is the only proof I have

that I fought for my life while I was unconscious.