Soon I’ll need assurances, a shower, coffee, pills.
In the fuzz of dawn, I’m a bell
and time’s the clapper, rung until
one state of being over-rings another—
so soon, so soon. Now, and now.
But in the kitchen there are only shadows
out a window, shapes and silhouettes:
mist, some trees, two deer.
How each animal can seem a question,
and that means me.
I’m thinking that the dream has left them, too,
the jittery dream, and in a moment,
they will blur again to woods,
which I would like to do.
Hold still, the whole scene says,
before the sun drives in the first nail.