Tuesday, 27 October 2015

DAYS













Mornings are
worst;
she can't sell
herself first gear
before the sun's
full up and has
a theory
that coffee,
fresh ground
doesn't kick
in until after
noon.

Her buddy from
the back lane
sneaks through
the trees there,
past the
elementary
school's yard
then her's,
crowded with
a stealth
of demons.

He catches
her unaware
even though
she knows
he's coming.
He always
comes,
but still has
the ability
to scare
the bejesus
out of her,
and leave
her trembling
long after.


3 comments:

  1. I wonder..if we expect something..anticipate it - has the demon become normalised inside us..morning scan indeed be bad...i like bed time when the only demons to tuck up with (hopefully) are those that await us in our dreams..a powerful and affecting poem

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