New Day at 29

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WAKING AT 29


Cannon fire of lamp click. 

Toy kicked and battling

every wall in the hall. 


Who replaced these bare feet

with concrete pavers? 


Is it too loud a hope

to creep quietly 

across the living room 

and figure some things out 

in the light of the front 

window before the house wakes?


Too late: here come the hungry. 


Lay out your queries 

and whatever meager quarry

you’ve gathered over the years

like so many pieces

of peanut-butter bread

and a smattering of goldfish. 


This one will take a miracle.


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