Mornings and Shadows

When mornings are veiled with sadness
I ask that you whisper no song
Sell my tears at the hardware
Donate my blood to the crickets
Just leave the door of our bedroom
Slightly open where I could hear
The sun’s footsteps like a burglar
And remember not to water
The sunflowers on my windowpane
Just leave me alone with your shadow.

When sadness is veiled with mornings
Drop a hello to a marionette
Listen to a bleeding Stradivarius
As one would hear a sermon
Then walk with a living saint
In our living room and dance
Sculpt me a rainy season soon
The sawdust rippling in my bathtub
And I will forget the mornings
Forget that mornings have no shadows.

 

 

First published in The Siren

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