of mornings
what do i think upon waking,
upon the first blink of my eyes?
every night, i try to remind myself
to remember my thoughts when i rise.
and every morning my phone alarm rings,
and i swipe my thumb ‘cross my screen,
and i yawn and stretch my arms out,
and rotate my ankles in rings.
and i sit up and stare at my curtains,
to see if it is still dark,
and i climb out of all of my covers
as my neighbor’s old dog starts to bark.
and every morning my feet hit the floor,
and i shiver and reach for a sweater,
and i shuffle across to my door
as i check my phone for the weather.
and i throw eggos in the toaster
as i finish my leftover homework,
and i belatedly remember my failed reminder
and say that tomorrow will be a do-over.