Spencer Ryan The 2River View, 6.3 (Spring 2002)

Morning Ritual

Night leaches into morning,
gray dawning gray.
My eyes suffocate beneath their plastic sheathings;
I rub at the corners
and they fuzz, settle like fog.
I cloud my coffee with cream
and dissolve my spoon in it.
The first sip blunts my tongue
as acrid caffeine mixes with fluoride;
I drink more to keep myself from retching.
The newspaper crackles like dead leaves.
Acid gathers at my fingertips
and everywhere I touch, I rupture a word.

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