Morning Routines

The Sun pries your eyes open,

After hours of moonlight sealing them shut.

Wipe the remnants of your dreams from them,

And stretch your muscles from the stiffness

Of dark time paralysis.

Yawn to expel the ghosts of words past.

Exorcise the demons your tongue has summoned.

Scrub your teeth to clean away any stragglers;

Rinse and repeat until the porcelain halls

Are hallowed once more, and gleam like alabaster pillars.

With soaked towel in hand, scrape away the weary film

From your skin, still clinging to you desperately.

And wash it down the shower drain with your sweet

Scented soap bubbles and shampoo lather.

Unravel the tangles in your matted hair…

Drag out the intwined strands of thought and memory

With your brush, straighten them out, rearrange them

To your liking, and then blow your inhibitions

Out with hot, dry air and the roar of a tiny engine.

Next, apply your mask carefully, so as not to break it.

Spread out your creamy canvas to paint and mark,

Line your eyes so dark that no light may pierce the

Shadow that hangs above them, and color your lips

The hue you wish love to be.

Replace your wrinkled nightgown with today's

Favorite shirt and jeans, slip on your mismatched socks

And pull your sneakers over them to disguise the

Odd pair and your fading nail polish.

Bejewel yourself like royalty, with gold, silver, and

Plastic trinkets.

And finally, check yourself over dozens of times

Before you start back on the journey you could make

Blindfolded, with one hand behind your back.

With a resigned sigh, step out into the world

Just one last time.