"I toss in bed, awake in terror..."

I toss in bed awake in terror, -

My mistress now demands more time.

She calls me from a different era,

She sends me letters filled with rhyme,

On napkins and on scraps of paper,

On skin with ink, on flesh with sweat, -

I recognize her in my neighbor,

She, smiling, begs me: “Don’t forget.”

Her constant, faithful gaze is fixed

Each time I’m writing in my journal,

She lies beside me like a Sphinx,

And whispers to me of Inferno.

The more ignored the more relentless,

- What happened to the peace I knew? -

Before I can conclude a sentence,

She dictates variants anew.