Sunday Morning

"Sunday morning broke
and dragged me out of bed,
slightly less asleep.
Sunday morning I was warming all the cold parts of my head
in cups and coffee pots.

In the winter I wonder
what it’s like to be anywhere else,
to be anywhere but here.

Sunday Morning fell
apart and back to sleep,
where I was running late,
where I looked out of place.
Sunday morning pace of steady, nervous feet

Sunday morning shook
me all the way awake.
Stirred me from the dream.
Sunday morning I was thinking of a phone call I should make
but never did.
I never did."