To write your name would give it power:
acknowledging its curve of letters
and the time it took to spell it out.
To spell you out and your existence,
would make you real but that would take
energy that I don’t have, effort that
I lack first thing in the morning because
you know I’ve never been a creature of the dawn–
it takes me at least thirty minutes to pull
myself from the stick of sheets after pressing
“snooze” on the alarm so many times.
To write your name would give it power,
accept that you are also sitting on some
piece of land in the sea, and that to me
would mean I’d have to answer the call
I’d have to answer you like the searching eye
of a lighthouse, have to throw you a life jacket,
have to reel you in to shore
But I’m not a morning person you know and even though
the lips of the kettle whistle that water is boiling
the shower sings a siren song that its ready
the cat is pawing under my bedroom door that it is hungry,
I stick my head inside of a fig,
enclosing myself in sticky color,
let my scabbed wings fall off
and become inside out while you shriek.
mindbodysoulpoetry 