Blasted from bed, feathers and I, birds caught
in a ceiling fan, spinning like the world—
I'd forgotten how much codeine hurts. Doc
told me last time, "Eat something, suck it up,
codeine is harsh." So at trite 2 a.m.,
I bear-tear open a pouch of oatmeal,
few more than 100 pieces of grain,
the rest sugar, diabetes waiting
to happen. But no problem, I can do
wash this morning, sort blues, greens in a way
I would call OCD, except that's how
people separate. When I run out of
greens, I’ll turn to browns, mix my colors more.
Bad day to try to sort things anyway.
Draft 3, January 9, 2011