Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves,

one of the sheep we count

as it frolics into the night.

Because how can we sleep

when we know

that Today’s hair tangles into a labyrinth

as he faces the wall,

then the door,

then the wall.

Your dreams in Tomorrow’s briefcase,

a shadow holding a knife to Today’s throat in his dreams.

Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves.

The road usually has all the signs you need.

An albatross chick sits

with his patchy feathers crouching against the wind’s talons.

His webbed feet scramble for security in the sand.

There are sharks, striped.

He does not know if they are tigers

The divots in the blue water,

Rollercoaster carts to enjoy the ride

But what if a green gurgles inside...

A shark’s witch’s brew,

to coax the lump of fear in the albatross’s throat

down like a pill.

He will fly soon, tomorrow, but…

…Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves.

Soon, his sister.

The dangers ahead foreboding

Only because time snips nerves

The angle viewing the water

hides the trash on the island:

the green bottles, plastic bags,

the lighter coated in his stomach acid.

Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves,

in which, Today’s shouts, a cat’s meow

against the roars of momentary pleasure.

On the shore, his feathers grow.

The sand, a sauna.

Tomorrow assures this and more,

fingers crossed behind his back.

Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves.

The alarm sound we hate so much rings, and we snooze

But in the end, we get up to live Today.

The albatross chick flies.

His wings cannot catch.

He drops in the water,

flaps and flaps.

The sharks rush all the same,

leaving a gash,

But the chick escapes,

red, patchy feathers flying over the blue, pure blue.

Tomorrow is a bedtime story we tell ourselves.

A wonder because the characters hide wicked smiles.

Tomorrow employs the sharks in front,

preserves the trash behind us.

Dangles a carrot until we’re cross-eyed

and cannot see

that tomorrow is a bedtime story...

that only leads to a night of unfulfilled dreams.

Nayab Ijaz

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