At 3 a.m.

We sit, five of us, naked
around the meeting table
in the office of the men
who arrive, late, in suits and ties,
and we laugh at how silly it is —
smart women, business women,
and these men
these men
insisting their way
as we play along, again

he calls me
a little girl
and we laugh

Later, in the lobby,
as I hold up a bedsheet
to my hide my self
I see across the room
the lover who loved
with shouts and shoves,
he smiles and we laugh,
embrace like old friends,
then he shape-shifts
bear, fox, jackal, demon
holds a fist up to my face
and laughs

he laughs

And I wake up
there, naked
deciphering dreams,
their train window filmstrip
passing, passing
ever so briefly
I am a part of all that I have met
and they of me
resurfacing to remind
and retell stories
I almost forgot.
But not


©2018, Jen Payne with a nod to Lord Tennyson. Photo courtesy of Pexels.

6 thoughts on “At 3 a.m.

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: