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.