Good Morning?
Posted: September 14th, 2004, 7:18 am
The indignant fog procession of dawn doesn’t glide; it trundles, through eyeball mud and heavy, rattling bones inside tight skin.
Window cracks pour longing light at faceless, crumpled bed clothes and the inverted ticking of the clocks carries on like a warning, unanswered, as the scratching on the other side of the door becomes unbearable.
Outside of the coffee morning, bombs drop.
Window cracks pour longing light at faceless, crumpled bed clothes and the inverted ticking of the clocks carries on like a warning, unanswered, as the scratching on the other side of the door becomes unbearable.
Outside of the coffee morning, bombs drop.