WingSpan Poetry Project


I wake

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a zombie back from
the dead,
jumbled life demands
like a dull knife
sawing at fog
cumulo nimbus
in my brain
around my head
my son’s playing a game
my heart aching
anticipated pain

I reprimand him,
ask for my phone,
the time handed
to me i am
There’s still time.
i dig through my pile
freshly cleaned clothes
like dirt hiding treasure
finding first
my pants,
then my shirt.
a plan of the day
runs slow as molasses
through my head
from the slit
finally cut in the fog.

I lumber down the stairs
searching for coffee.
looked for coffee …
i looked for
what to put in coffee
i found hot chocolate
my fog follows
I go with my cup
and my fog
to the office
my medications …
i got them …
smoke …
the fog follows
outside it’s hard to believe
it’s been an hour
already …


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