It’s been a long day and the sand hasn’t rubbed out of your eyes.
grit
grit in every orifice and your skin crawls.
Last night’s tattered sleep washes over you at intervals like a tide.
“I’ll put tea on.”
Entropy increases. Your family
is a wildly spinning solar system,
Starless.
When the sun sets it is too cloudy to see the
sky.
The tea whispers insistently. Deft fingers
at a packet of Earl Grey.
Don’t add any sugar. The bitterness produces
pleasing synchrony.
“Let me pour for you.”
You never agree to that but
today
you don’t care
how far from the lip of your mug
the waterline is. It spits flowing from the spout.
“Careful.”
A week ago,
your life was a calm ocean.
The windy season has come, and under what roof
will you find shelter?
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