Awoke before dawn
Wanted to fall through the floor.
Forget the wrong side of the bed–
If only I could get up at all!
Would that it were night, not blasted morning–
Would that I could die here in the desert–
Would that I could fall into sleep, and out of this feeling I’m feeling!
Tears, all day tears, but from the depths of what divine despair?
Rivulets streak my face as I work.
The phone does not ring; I am grateful.
Nobody knocks; I am grateful.
Passing a hallway mirror, I grimace at red eyes, red nose, wet cheeks.
I prepare a face to meet any faces that I meet:
“Fine, fine, fine, and how are YOU?”
I’m full of it today.
At night I eat garlic and nobody kisses me, no one complains.
The chickpeas dance in the pot on the stove, trying to loosen me up.
Somehow the radio turns itself on; why am I suddenly singing?
Who’s making faces at me in the mirror?
Who’s making faces back?
Look who’s come out from the trapdoor, hey–
Look who’s come out from the trapdoor day!