Get Up Before Dawn
Rose Thornton (1914-1984)
I just sit on my floor in the spot that gets warmed by the sun,
and my problems are my own to solve.
I see my neighbours’ rose garden.
To some, nightfall brings nightmares and fears; to me, it brings comfort and ideas.
So I eat, eat and eat.
Then, if I could, I would fly amongst the stars, unburdened and unfaltering.
Soon, my right hand starts cramping, and I find that quite annoying.
I can’t stand people before dawn, if ever,
yet the warmth of her bed still lingers on her skin
while I’m unhappy. In conclusion, same shit, different day — but at least tea’s ready
because the dragons bring the ashen rain. The world is dying, but my heart’s aflame.
Talk instead of touch, and that’s all right. The week goes by, and we meet again.
So I carry the financial weight of our little family.
It’s as if there’s something in the darkness waiting for me to wake up.