If Only I Could Brew Coffee Strong Enough to Make Me Fly

Good morning, good

morning! Misery has nearly molted. I can’t shake it


off. Once again, I sew my body

to this tiny bed shared with mx Dignity, 


barely a queen in proportion and on sight. A paltry

cocoon crusts on my lashes. What’s left


of it clucks a sordid defeat. The choir of heavy machinery

swivels me: awakened to weakened, not ever just awake.


Time is impatient before any alarms go off. 

Then, it’s a ludicrous tumble from when it does—


                Please, please, please!

               Leave the bed and join yourself


A hiccup meets with my clavicle, hitches

itself on my jagged teeth. A yawn scars


sleep in ballooned lungs. And limbs mechanical,

almost un-mine. A foot in front of the other,


larger in scale than I care to recall. Out the sliding door

to fumble for the coffee dripper. Water hot enough 


to shock—until I’m once again, once more

running and gasping and woman absolved of self.

What are you looking for?