A poem for the morning
Before you awake
Before the traffic stops
And the weaker dawn breaks
A poem for your eyelids,
for the insides of your cheeks
for the curl of your hands
and wrinkles from the sheets
A poem for the watch
You won’t remember to wear
for the breath that determines
the sway of your hair
for the smile you might hear
as you are passing through
Far before 9am
When there’s nothing yet due
~ For my cousin
