Yawning is catching
Dominoes of stretch
Faces and darkness
and things buried deep.
I once learned yawning is the body’s quiet battle for more oxygen.
Yet a yawn seems more
like a war brought by outside forces
(the demeanour of the yawner
tells a victim’s tale-
“The Armies of Fatigue Are Come to Smash the Last of my Wakeful Garrisons!”
“Stealthy Sleep Gas Seeps Along the Final Corridors of Consciousness!”)
than what it really is-
a battle-cry from an old friend rapidly turning foe,
as you push on,
denying the good men and true their due rest
and spreading the soporific silence as your head tilts back to yawn again