William Matthews

Here you will find the Poem Bedtime of poet William Matthews

Bedtime

Usually I stay up late, my time 
alone. Tonight at 9o I can tell 
I'm only awake long enough 
to put my sons to bed. 
When I start to turn off lights 
the boys are puzzled. They're used 
to entering sleep by ceding to me 
their hum and fizz, the way they give me 
50¢ to hold so they can play 
without money. I'm their night-light. 
I'm the bread baked while they sleep. 
And I can scarcely stand up, dry 
in the mouth and dizzied 
by fatigue. From our rooms 
we call back and forth the worn 
magic of our passwords and let one 
another go. In the morning Sebastian 
asks who was the last to fall 
asleep and none of us cares or knows.