Saturday morning
waiting for the rush,
thawing from last
night's sweat
like a fish between covers-
coffee, shaking my head
out from too little sleep,
recoils against my stomach
with the sudden tension
of a knotted rope,
salt-wet, and yanked
from a linen womb,
thrown against the
sink, where dishes
bob and rock
like ships in a
foamy, stormy sea.

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