putting pennies on the track


She awakes to kitten kisses
every morn; then drinks the sun.
Of all the day’s born blisses,
early light, most ritual one.

Her shredded wheat routine
and her grapefruit’s saccharine juice
glaze her eyes like Thorazine
as she numbly knots her noose.

The buzzing drone of public talk,
the percolating thought
casts sound shadows on patterned walk
that travels over rot.

She writes her reason neatly,
folds them tightly, seals them wet.
Then she bathes her soul discretely
in white basin drawn with sweat.

She chokes on excerpts of Thoreau
with Bible at her breast.
From high she smiles on coffin crow,
her rituals laid to rest.




© 2001, Arden Davidson