Under the Influence of Virgil

It's a struggle to get out of bed, mornings

the dogs are no help, no yelp to awaken the 

struggling mind against the sea of dreams, there the gods

go against the slumbering log of a brain 

the screaming relentless harpies instead 

are gripping the eyelids all hell sealed behind

 the imprint boots of the ancient Morpheus clamping

shut the mouth gasping —

sacrifice a vestal virgin and build a temple upwind

for the house gods, & the small buddhas sitting in the yard