this morning spilled itself
like a cup of not-enough-coffee—
the sun (crooked in the sky's pocket)
forgot to smile.

& i,
with a mouthful of tomorrow's words,
stepped into the street where
wind whispered secrets i didn't want to hear—
a fist of weather broke my face
(it wasn’t personal, it never is).

the hours marched on with
their boot-polished precision:
giving (taking)
giving (taking)
more of me than I
remembered I had to lose.

sacrifice wore its familiar coat—
buttons missing but
it fit me perfectly,
still.

all i could think of
(when the weight of now
shoved me into myself)
was the quilted quiet
of staying home:
walls tender as eyelids,
ceilings dreaming their own sky.

but this world
asks more than
any single answer—
even the moon is required to rise
when it would rather sleep.

so i go on,
dragging behind me a day
i didn’t want to carry,
wishing it would unfold
like a paper crane
&
fly away.