Just before dawn
a moment
of clarity.

I do not have to
get up. I can
stay here, in bed,

until the next night.
What nonsense
is out there

that tells me I have to
sleep at night,
wake up and go all day?

It’s only
the sore fact
of illness that goads me

into rising —
what will others say
about my staying in bed,

my delicious staying
in bed? They would too
if they could —

and I can so
I must be sick,
sick unto death

as the world spins
unceasing past where
I lie. The difference

between the end and
the continuation and of course
the beginning of this

is minor. It all is
minor. If I go
or if I stay is minor

at dawn, at dusk.
Everything is on fire
or cold as a carcass

inside me. Dawn
is nothing but the reverse
of dusk and I am

in reverse of both,
startling both into a knowledge
of ending, of beginning;

a moment of clarity
before I rise or stay;
before I choose

to go forward or backward
or just stand still
as time takes its course.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still seeking folks willing to pony up a dollar a month to keep this going. TIA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T