after Lesléa Newman
Wake sticky with high sunlight,
with too much space in the bed.
Pull the phone from under
your pillow. Curse it
for the dreams it didn’t give you.
Ask if it’s been hiding your mail.
Drag yourself through the shower,
slick your hair neat. Do not roar.
Glare into your cabinets. Grab a bag
of almonds for lunch.
Do not show anyone your knuckles.
Do not ask the barista to kiss your wounds.
Change your passwords.
When they ask about your weekend,
say: fine. Say: I was traveling. say:
the airport security line
Swallow each almond whole,
without choking. Turn off your phone.
Pretend not to wait.