Morning Silence

The day starts thick
with sun blaring between
the blinds, unwanted and vicious,
as I rise to swallow my metabolism.

There is something simple
about morning silence
laced with forgotten memories.
I turn on the fans to move
the ghosts in the air
farther from my face.

I choke down my pill
with tepid water, the room fills
with as much humidity
as there are degrees

and I think, I am not built for this.

I open the bedroom door
to the lingering stench
of stale bourbon and sweat
and crumble with nausea.

My sleep is over for another day
so I put on the headphones
and scrub the kitchen
with a meticulous fury.

My body gains a fine perspiration
in the heat of clean work
and for the first time feel returned
to a normal state of grace,
fulfilled by the shine on the linoleum.

Aleathia Drehmer

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