A Drag

 

Lately it is so hard to
breathe, corporal barricades
where my drive once was.

 

It should be easy to put the eggs
away, yet I take more liking
to the back of my eyelids. 

 

No, I swear – glory be
to early morning drags that remind me
of the blood that flows to my fingertips;

the doctors will never understand.

 

The bowls of cereal milk,

I promise to pour them out next week.