from Caterwaul (Math Paper Press, 2016)

Five forty-four am is not morning,
no matter what Swede lightbulbs teach.
Too far to tell tinnitus from cricket,
racket from reach.
too late to believe in witches,
too early
to feel
brand new.
It is the best time to admit: I
am unsure of what I do.
I know my post.
Have been on patrol most of the night
keeping watch for the arrival of something
more train than thought.
Soon, you nine-to-fiver
swallowing your sen-suh-ble habits,
will leave through the sliding doors of a heart murmur,
shutting open
a dream coming through the wrong chamber.
Sometimes, always, a stranger sitting next to you,
mindful of the wide gap,
welcoming different mornings
with different needs.
But we’re not so different.
We also have stomachs to feed.
Image taken 5th May 2015 in Tel Aviv, Israel.
Photo and text by Jennifer Anne Champion

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