Hypnic Jerk

You fall (asleep);
You call
“My Rings”
You sit straight up
And do the
Hypnic Jerk

The floor gone
An elevator on
With only one
Dropping
Motion

You flail
And crick your neck
Wiplash as
You do the
Hypnic Jerk

Cliffside
Sure you’ll die
You fall awake
Strain at the ache
Of sudden
Consciousness–

You object and
Represent the 70%
Who do the
Hypnic Jerk

By Makar

Stephen Sutherlin is a designer, poet and musician. He writes poetry about life in the southwest and enjoys metrical lyricism.