I awoke from a dream
with my hope clenched
between gritted teeth -
reality stained enamel
carving vengeful ravines
into the smooth flanks
of optimism.

These are the mornings
These are the mornings after
These are the mornings after the nights
where I slip out of the shadows,
into costume and assume
my position - counting down
to a future of fairytales.

But at the tail end of slumber
my eyes were forced open
by the assault of the sun.

So I let my forehead
greet my knees
in foetal resistance
and I bit down ever-harder
on the aftertaste
of our innocence.

12/10/2003

Posted on 12/10/2003
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