i woke easy this morning, just before my alarm,
thin film of sweat already painting my skin.
i beat the roofers to work, so their closed chain gate implied,
the sky is darker this week, thick with fog and awkward time.
it’s all just so . . .
unseasonable.
tonight, we’ll strip more blanket from the bed,
one more layer of safe-bundled comfort,
exchanged for the bare and more true, i can hope.
transfigured, reordered, remade.



