Early morning before
anyone has ordered coffee
and I feel delicate in the dewy
sun with the heater on low
at my ankles, I reorganize
the drawer below the register
gingerly feeling at staples and
rubberbands, Caleb watches from
the corner on tea with raspberry
in doc martens and ***** trousers
I wonder if I seem as pretty as I
feel or if he feels the staples too and
the dust from gift cards, if my hair
flares out in the light, if I am a brilliant
solar eclipse.