Thanks for joining me for the fifteenth (!) week of Some Gay Poems.

I have to admit — I’m growing bored with this format. I’d love some ideas from the crowd for how to change it up!

This week’s poem is inspired by my changing sleep patterns and by pseudoscientific thinkpieces.

I don’t have a thematically linked photo, so here’s just one of me that my boyfriend’s father (thanks, Jean-Pierre!) took — feel free to use it as a reaction meme.

Medieval Sleep

In the Middle Ages,people woke up in themiddle of the night,texted their friendsand drank mead andate boar and chattedabout whether the plague doctor was sexy under his mask and robes.

Lately, I’ve been waking upin the middle of the nightbut I just scroll until mypinky indent hurts too much.

Alas, I have replaced themead and boar with twoor three or four Tums,depending on whether theyare Ultra Strength or ExtraStrength or Regular.

I’ve always been a bitmedieval, in that I’ve nevergrasped linear perspectivein art and I often worry thatmy enemies are poisoningmy food.

After the mead and boar,the medieval folk didpart two of sleep and chargedtheir phones. I do that too butoften can’t be bothered toreach for the charging cable.

In truth, this divided sleepbrings me closer to lifeitself, for life itself is alsoa brief period of scrollingbookended by deep sleeps.

In truth, we modern folk havelost so much. We never sharea mid-sleep mead with thosewe love and our phones arealways low on charge.

But now we know that, yes,the plague doctor wasquite sexy. He leaked hisnudes and let me tell you,that man has two beaks.

Weird times, y’all! Click some buttons:

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