Cloudy morning, a cold sun.
Sound of murky water swiveling down the ducts.
Cry of a stray waking the straggler. Paper cups
Trodden and a cracked glass trying to
Make its presence known through
The vapor from a kettle.
My Dawn.


Silent walls hidden in the shadows
of street lamps. The chip under my slipper
on the dark terrace floor. The tangled strands
I pull from the comb. The wait for a
Beep on my cell phone.
My Night.