Tagged: mornings

monday morning, the

monday morning, the
tugboat of dawn refuses
to budge – the darkened

sky apologizes on
its behalf, sends wet missives

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: missives


i am getting better

i am getting better
at grating ginger
in the morning,
over breakfast. i
have a firmer grip
in both hands,
chant my mantra
double-time, stop
imagining how much
it would hurt to
slip, aim for thirty-
seven days
without injury

it turns out that our

it turns out that our
arms cannot keep one
another’s dragons
at bay. the evenings
are the hardest, as we
climb into bed, carrying
this new weight. the
mornings are the hardest,
as we wake up most
vulnerable, bracing
for a bruising day.
the hours in between
are the hardest, as we
try out every combination
of love and resistance,
endeavoring not to harm
each other in every way

because the walls and

because the walls and
ceiling are paper-thin,
there is evidence that
you and i were not so
still, gathering friction
between our teeth until
morning, for the
longer nights ahead

in about twenty-

in about twenty-
two minutes,
the sun will not
be able to help
itself from
that corner
of my memory
and the way you
held me as
we basked

when the heart breaks,

when the heart breaks,
the body, unbeknownst
to the host,
disconnects, one, two,
maybe several
organs at a time. it
is how on day seven,
the outer shell awakes
first and recognizes
pain along the circuitry,
the stomach reacts,
two-thirds liver-less,
the spinal cord lets
go a bouquet of
nerves, and the
tongue is speechless,
numb to the touch

blanca, thank you for

blanca, thank you for
heart, skill, and passion,
all of which greeted
us each morning, making
those early moments
of being a stranger
not so daunting