Day 340: And Then
∴
and then
there are the mornings
you wake up
as listless
and unintelligent
as mediocre marmalade,
spread too thin
on thinner toast.
a harsh hour
is the dawn
accosted by artificial lights,
and heralded
by the cruel trumpet
of a bedside phone
on alert.
and then
you sit on the edge of your bed
and stare at your toes
that should be some other where,
before shooting them in
to the slippers
that dignify duty with sole.
and then
the day begins –
no matter the need to hold back time –
no matter the plea to pause –
up,
up,
and
then.
∴
