Sunday, August 18, 2013

a half hour of clarity

I moved our house without encouragement,
   lifted the cardboard without
      the weight of youth's end.

The jarring chord wakes me
   from sleepwalk, but our home
      will be my joy again.

Every patron drinks for familiarity,
   for quick-draw comfort--soon my family
      sleeps in thorough calm.

The white comforter isn't warm,
   doesn't stop my chills.
       I should have slept outside.

Half my paycheck earned me opiates,
   and half my night earned me
      a half hour of clarity.

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