The morning’s yawn is street-like sounds after
pre-dawn rains.  I remove the stems of my waking
body from bed.  This day the sun is a lazy un-
procured star that hasn’t yet met her bride but
the horizon hides hungrily behind the promise
of a martial morning.  Yet again, today I divorce
last night’s dreams from today’s wakeful place.

:: 03-18-2015 ::