Clock

A face that doesn’t smile

And hands you won’t let me hold

Come down from your wall

Waking Requiem

There is a space,
After I wake up,
But before I open my eyes

Bread’s in the oven

Rising and browning in heat

Home wafts through the air

Water-wrinkled flesh

Submerged in scalding fluids

Cleansing and calming

Around my finger

Fabric and flesh together

It will be okay

Bake, bake, baking

In the sun

Oink, oink, oinking

In the mud

Merry, merry, merrily

Filtered and sterile
Air needs to be conditioned
How it’s meant to be

Driblets of cool sweat
Flexed and contracted muscles
A perfect machine

Sitting on the patio
On a warm summer day
Under the shade of
Your two-story house

Could be a minute
Or could be half an hour
Don’t freaking judge me