I Cave

Jingle of tags

sprinkler rattling rhythm

Breeze slides mamba across skin.

Lids heavy in dark houses.

Upstairs window glows

The moon spotlights sun’s rising.

Delicious sips.

I want more of it

I will write and

Write

Write

Write right here forever.

If, guaranteed,

I could make poetry

from the comfort of morning

.

I’ll thread morning through fingertips

Silken run between

Index and middle

Ball it under nose

Drag in dewy scent

Eradicate coils from neck

By wrapping it round head

Then I’ll slide together words

void of meaning and say

"Poetry happened"

.

I will bounce from morning

to verse back and forth

and back forever in comfort

I’ll even shoulder teaching.

Give a knee nudge.

Skirt responsibilities

I will make

poetry

If it meant I could stay here,

forever,

on the perch of morning.

.

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