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Poem: December Eighth


thermometer proclaims:
zero celsius!
clock exclaims:
morning!
my body complains:
I am old…

frozen air
creaky bones
blurry head
I am unmoved
and know I must
begin again

these blankets are
warm safe cocoon
safely soothing
I slap snooze
avoiding my destiny
for ten more minutes…

too soon

clock reclaims:
morning!
my being complains:
I am still old…

fatally compelled to
arise from the bed
like the sun
and the moon
my degrading orbit
predetermined
by gravity

and finite time.

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