I Am Never Tired

I am never tired.
I am consumed by the what-ifs.
A 100 pound mother in boxing gloves with starry eyeteeth.

You can not tell me to let it die.
I will not let it die.

My furnace is stoked with yesterday’s newsprint
dirty fingers licked by white sleeves,
silver smoke smothering rational thought.

But rational thought is but a white flag,
and I am a-boil in shaky embers and the bluest of ash.
I am aware that we are both a-simmer
vein deep in illogical warfare.

Stab your self-made kewpie doll
with poppy laden precision,
but I will not be detracted from the stoking,
gathering tiny fairy twigs and discarded birthday ribbons.

I am a swollen bonfire
belching a message to the sky.
There will be no scorched earth today.
No more clotted dirt and darkened eye.

I am so very, very busy.
You see this fire, your fire,
I will not let it die.

Click here to read Annemarie Whilton on the origin of the poem.

Image by Luke Porter on unsplash.com, licensed under CC 2.0.

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Annemarie Whilton

Annemarie Whilton is a Massachusetts-based artist, writer and community activist. She writes a blog, www.heroinheroineblog.com, and can be seen on Stories from the Stage (WGBH televised) and at the MOTH grand slam in 2026. She has been published in WBUR’s Cognoscenti and in The North American Review.

Latest posts by Annemarie Whilton (see all)

• I Am Never Tired - May 15, 2026