first mornings

I wake at 5, and the world yawns with me

the hearth sits cold

we lie still, trembling

At the sill, the clutches of winter have sealed the glass

no one has yet to rein in the darkness.

glassy eyed strangers shuffle awake

flitting between the light of the street lamps

ghosts, in dark daylight

I merge into their line

layer upon layer, body against body

The wilderness has robbed us

left defenseless,

waiting for the rise of the day

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