Good morning body I called you in for a meeting because you can’t sleep again and I just wanted to tell you you don’t already seem to know and no one can read your writing you already know what you’re wearing tomorrow and you’ll pay the gallery in the morning
and it's all fine and you’re very much allowed to yawn sigh or take a deep breath
I know January keeps trying to go on and on and on and on like you’re not already over it a few weeks ahead of yourself like we’re not all stuck in Deja-vu despite the fact that it’s fun to type out soothing repetition like a hot tea lavender oil or the last smile on the page like a consoling yoga chant
it’s time you heard this where are the words you’re hiding? when you sit down and say you can’t do this again I will tell you I think this might be growing it was you under the pile of clothes the whole time holding the remote murmuring prophetically in the corner it was you you see you already said you’re everything you know you’re everything you need
Good morning body I called you in to talk to me for us to meet each other
letters to yourself are the new shopping list
or at least they’re calming to write when you can’t sleep.
poetry from Jan, deep in the midst of hibernation season