When your head is tired there’s a heaviness
a lethargy like syrup slowing you up
and things that should be simple, or at least quick to do
are lost to you in their unknowableness.
The thing to do is sleep.
When your heart is tired there’s a syrup
unknown sleeping sweetly in you
a jar of molasses to which you’ve lost the spoon.
You cannot open it with the blunt edge of an umbrella -
the thing to do is weep.