Pin It

Poem: Morning God 

When I awake in my mother’s freezing basement,
I don’t jump awake like a bloody early morning quack.
I wish to the good god that swept me to sleep
That she’d count all my stars one more time
And whisper sweet nothings into the back of my mind.
To be honest, the sweet nothings are always floating there.
They never leave and rightly so;
Space head filled with clouds.
No, the sweet nothings are what keep me stifled
And snuggled and re-counting my re-counting
Until the moment I absolutely must arise.
You know, that moment that passed a few re-counts ago.
Eyes closed.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Ned Tobin.

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event
Beacon Second Saturday @ Downtown Beacon

Beacon Second Saturday

Second Saturday of every month — The BAUsters have something special this month - the celebration of...

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets