tomorrow morning

In the morning you’ll write a poem
Not now
Do it tomorrow
When your mind is fresh
When you can sit, day lit
With all the optimism of coffee
And write something about ambition
Or the bend in the road

In the morning
You will know your limbs
All over again
And come to realize the head of hair
And recall the glory of a bank account
Whatever its contents
And sound
Like a national anthem
Or like the stir of a triangle
Your pinky lifted
Purr thinking of the sunlight ahead
Your home away from home

And then
When you press your soles down
one to the hard carpet
the other to the wooden floor
You will recall the shape of the world
And that while it is under you

It is not you

And then
You will feel the electricity of that collision
The blast of it, its big bang
And a poem at that point
Like the dark sliver you cut
Into the white air
Will be the inevitable
And collateral cousin
To the launch of day