Morning Fertilizer
This morning
I shuffle still
In sleep
To that steaming
Bubbling altar
Of awareness
My bedtime bun
Disheveled and askew
Imbalance tugging
My heavy head
A leaning tower
Of convenience
Craving that first sip
But in my mouth
It turns to dirt
And gritty earth
Down my gullet
With aversion
To the taste
Of mineral and tin
But maybe while
I dump this out
And grind again
Some ingested seed
Will germinate and sprout
Crowding out the nausea
Of early morning doubt
and then…
— April Resnick