A Morning Routine

He awoke from a terrible dream
Skin flecked away like paint chips
Sinking between the floorboards
Ruby red kisses left behind.

Brushing his teeth mostly
To ensure they’re still
Inside his head where he saw them last.

In his bed
The Lament for Icarus has begun
So wide and kind
The feeling of lift
Remembrance
A guest forgotten
Sunk in the night’s wake

And he knows he will have to take him
Uptown and maybe east
They shared a bed, after all
Reciprocity for holy men

He looks up at the ceiling wondering
If his mother can see what he has done or
Was her vision blocked
By the neighbors and the noise upstairs.

Jacob Rosen is a writer from Natick, MA. He is currently earning his M.A. in Political Science from Syracuse University, though he spends a large amount of time on walks.

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