She tries to count to seventeen by multiples of Pi:
03.14, 06.28, 09.42, 12.56, 15.70, 18.84.
When she overshoots she starts all over again
till night retreats. The lightening of the sky
illuminates her insomniac chagrin.
The next night, after enjoying a nap of almost an hour,
her synapses snap to attention, flee the land of Nod.
She makes again obeisance to the god
she calls Morpheus and, mortifying maths,
she redefines Pi as a function of
seventeen. This lets her summing shove
its multiples into a tidy nest
that add up evenly and bring her rest …
… until she notes she’s doing couplets missing lines
and sleep slips away. Again! Ah, sleep divine … …