in the dawn

when bodies intercross

that stage of simultaneous

exhaust and regeneration

my mind becomes of another plane

where the primitive fears

gargle up before i can close my third eye

my getting beat or a fork in the road without its tines

i wake for a few millennial seconds

then heavy weariness weighs me down again

smelling Jewish rye bread toasting

i’m at the house on Rodney street

wearing my mother’s clothes

and my lips sewn shut

phone alarm buzzes on

and the cats start to call me mama

slowly i rise

unconsciously tap my lips

while dragging my feet

to the bathroom mirror

another day in hell

and all i got is a cup of ice chips