2 Apr

The weight
of this blanket upon me,
like the taste
of homemade
chocolate chip
cookies or
pumpkin bread,
is warm and delicious

despite the cacophony
of an urgent morning
still outside my shut door,
the heat of her body
long gone, the frantic
clanging of silverware, sharp
beep of our coffeemaker signaling

Not a single
bone in my body
rises willingly,
although it is time.
It is beyond time.
I cannot feign sleep

There are bills to pay
and beings to feed.

My bare feet slap
against the too-cool
wood floor. I reach
for the hoodie, hooked
over the knob of my closet
door and sling it over my shoulder
as someone shouts
at the dog barking
in our front window.

I use the coffeemaker’s beep
as a beacon, drawing me
out of the bedroom.
Dogs run to lick my palms
and rub against me.

I bend to let them.


* * *
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days

* * *


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