“When I awoke it was noon.”
–Arthur Rimbaud
each morning before the alarm
before the sun before I am
fully awake I rise as if
I could somehow steal
time from the day before
it begins as if I could hold
for a moment the moment
like a bird within my hand
and feel life’s pulse flutter
through me like waves
along a calmer shore
less fraught with worry’s
wreckage less cluttered
with my mistaken regret
(March 27, 2016)
subtext 