I Lay in Weight

A new dawn stripes life across my skin.

And with it rains dust, adding a layer of time through the breaking of drawn blinds.

A new dawn, a new dawn.

Dust and blanket and pillow and sock and jumper, I lay in weight.

For the day to rise, and with it my chest,

my lungs,

my passion ever-bright.

My eyes still adjust. Right eye sepia, left eye iron. Red dust, blue dust. Right left, Right left.

And finger tracing freckled constellations, twelve and on...

And toes, three-one three, ten, and on...

And water, four, seven, twelve, and on...

A new dawn, a new dawn.

I lay in weight.

And at every passing minute shifting about under muffled laundry, I lay in weight.

At every cycled heater whirring continuum, I lay in weight.

The stripes of day tickle at my skin as they travel on by,

And no longer are the drawn blinds necessary.

Not in this autumn light.

The day has passed, and the weight has lifted.

And tomorrow will be a new dawn,

A new counting of time.

And as I gear up once again,

I lay in weight.

I lay in weight.