contemplating another day

Curled up next to an unfurled futon
inches from the floor
headphones pouring into the silence
piled into the shadowy recesses

a collection of unpublished
mostly unedited poetry. Today
Tuesday, or Thursday, or Saturday
or the middle of a static Autumn, or quiet Spring
or the shiver of laughter.

  Eyes will open to this secret room.
Eyes and toes and restless movements and
inches from the floor; curled
in the thoughts of someone else

yearning
to dissolve into an empty room
with polished wooden floors,
even edges where seated
the light trespassing curiously
through a window; itself
fracturing amongst steam rising
from a cup of hot tea
from the remaining grains in the rice bowl
I have

breaking the stillness
in once was
before the crows
an empty room
in silence.