ANYONE who finds sleep elusive will respond to the theme of Grace Nichols’s new collection, The Insomnia Poems (Bloodaxe, £9.95). Nichols came to Britain from Guyana when she was 27 and brought with her the warmth of her Caribbean heritage. Her Bloodaxe retrospective, I Have Crossed An Ocean, was published in 2010.

ONCE AGAIN

Once again

the hallway mirror

is startled by my 3am face –

a passing moon

across the stillness

of its lake –

The hallway mirror

that has regained

its silvered composure

but fuming within –

the depths –

that it must always reflect.

ONE NIGHT COMES LIKE A BLESSING

Like a cruel lover or spiteful mistress

No-Sleep demands my restive attentiveness.

No-Sleep prefers me stripped –

a dark projectionist

winding and unwinding the reel of my thoughts.

An old grained movie I can’t switch off –

a starring of loves and loss, TV footage,

soft tears, mortifications, smothered laughs.

Then, one night comes like a blessing.

A visitation of wings that sees me falling.

Whoever wants me now, I am swimming

towards my House of Dreams.

Let no one disturb this peace.

Let no one shake me

even from the branches of nightmares.

Come morning I am reborn again –

a fresh-faced Eve – emerging from the rib’s shadow –

ready to meet the daily pandemonium of living.