she was lost to burnt orange days
dragging themselves across the sky,
torn to face mechanical mornings
draped in the potential of the sun
dissipating in the numbers on her phone.


To be breathing
awake and feeling
in small seconds
of unending infinite
mechanical mornings.

muttering step-step
dragging dead dreams
through shrill-ringing
alarms and siren-shouts
life-lost but still living.

we wake in gentle light
dawn-struck dealing
daring to open life-worn
eyes and see for truth
the world we’ve been