A Day

Starts with mugs
of words on a page
of caffeine and cups
of cats clawing at calves
of news – all olds – on TV

Then move on to bottles
of cab rides
of grids on a screen
of numbness in a field of letters
appearing
disappearing
flying God knows where

Boxes and boxes
of conversation so quiet
of bullets
of stolen thoughts
of hidden dreams in
train rides’ crowds

End with jars
of fire and liquid frost
of pens with ink oceans
of paper wishing stars
of sleep wrapped in
fleece and fur…

Then start
with mugs