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Night Baker

by Amanda Conlogue

four a.m., saturday
third shift lunch break
I'm tired, but should be
used to this, it's not
as if I ever slept
at this hour before
lying awake
awash in wavering grey
light, bedroom shadows
now wandering cold
supermarkets isles
beneath artificial glare
of florescent lighting
strange to be surrounded
by silence and yeasty
smells of bread rising
in an industrial oven
the rest of the world
sleeping, sighing babies
spooning lovers
echoing snores of elderly men
all wrapped in feather down
I'll go home as the sun
breaks, hands dusted
in flour, dried dough
caked beneath fingernails
I'll go home to sleep
alone as the world awakens.

11/09/2002

Posted on 12/31/2002
Copyright © 2019 Amanda Conlogue

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/13/03 at 12:34 PM

Feeding and admiring a world that you feel you are not a part of. Vivid imagery with sad undertow.

Posted by Ginette T Belle on 04/15/04 at 11:32 PM

love the feeling and colour of this poem...it's beautiful..

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