Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Morning with a "u"

I wake up singing.
Some song I haven’t heard.

Have I ever looked at
my birth certificate’s needlepoint replica
framed and hung
the day they brought me home?

Sunlight on it like a veil,
but I don’t bother.
My heart sprouts eyebrows
bushy and painful.

In the hallway, floating among the dusts
there must be fairies
and a guy like me.
Just never at the same time.

My insides conceal me,
even from myself,
and turn the fairies sour.
I hear them hissing in the keyholes.

The hard face I must make
when I go off to work.
Mom hides in the laundry room.

What song do you want me to sing?
What song do you want me to sing?

This winter
when stripped of summer coats
once and for all I’ll be a rodent,
and in ten years, a pelt
or a warm cap with no soul.

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