BOYCOTTED YET LIVED

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Artwork: Italian Midday (1827)
Artist: Karl Bryullov

The cushion has me in splits —
and I see a part of me under the wooly blankets of fern —
living a sleep rather than dreaming it.

The head remains neglected
as it foresees the day —
It has chosen a deliberate trouble.

If the very dawn was the precipitated noon
and in turn, the sour orange
and the wooded moon —
The existence would have been ‘you’.

I look at the tea pot served —
and wonder
if it’s ‘us’ pouring in a combination,
attaining applauds.

If that’s so —
the present isn’t any different.

It’s upon us how we form poems
The dawn is just the plot.

I should wake and leap forward —
entering other prohibited phases
called relations.

I would love —
to be boycotted by dawn
and live your day.

It’s only then —
You vibrate me up with a push
uniting my pillow and porch as one
and directing for a pre-office bath.

The first drop —
from the shower nozzle on my lip
The first dew of your dawn.

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