Random Acts of Poetry
6:30 AM (fragment)
Already the sky is graying.
He pulls the blanket over his head,
cradles a steaming cup.
Cold bones unstiffen, limbs relax,
dreams falter.
He sips the dark
as his head powers up, caffeine
slowly swirling down to his fingertips.
He refuses, for the moment, to acknowledge time.
It is put off.
Bell and trains,
keys and lists can wait.
His hot breath fills a womb.
Nothing owns him now.
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