20. That is
Waking up to yet another
Monday I think about the gluey
hours in the week ahead of me,
time stretching elastic until I
snap. There is nothing so safe
as a warm bed. I must confess, there’s
also nothing much in my head, no
salvation image, that is, no
imaginative credit to spend …
All that to say: this sludgy dreck
is my anemic offering to
Monday’s hungry gods.
