Morning routine
Originally posted 03.13.2006
Salt water, hot, is the first
defense, saline swill
in a cobalt class,
a sleek little cylinder that sits sinkside
amid the clutter of
our personal things: brushes, razors,
soaps and creams.
The cabinet painted thick,
barely latches,
hardly holds and seldom catches
the morning fumble from fingers aching with caffeine and
last night’s lack of restraint—
—too much play and not enough give.
A tiny sore tingles
to catch hold and live out
its full painful promise:
nuisance canker,
where teeth met in a sudden bite,
a glancing pinch
of flesh too thin,
concentration’s sacrifice.
