Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-three
Winter 2013
Sleep Deprivation
Robert Pesich

Three years old and already he holds a chess set,
a birthday gift from his great-grandfather.

This traveler’s edition folds into an old wooden box
which he now shakes in the darkness of his crib,

having abandoned his teddy and monkey-blankie.
He cries himself to sleep, trying to unlock it

while downstairs, his parents listen in the kitchen
to the latest about the underwear-bomber

and the forecast of whiteouts across the country.

About Robert Pesich

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