Solstice sunshine prises my eyelids apart
it must be six am, time to rise. I yawn,
sit up, stretch and stagger to the toilet.
A quick-lick shower and back to dress
in my bedroom. As an afterthought,
I check my watch. No. Four-fifteen --
surely it's stopped. No.
the second hand crawls
round its face. I rub my eyes
and curse out loud. I'm awake now,
no point in returning under the duvet.
No. I'd better start my day in this thin
dawn air. My lightheaded brain stalls
in waves of dizziness. I am afraid
of your ghost. I should not be alert
in this fey, betwixt-between space.
I try tea, then coffee,
cereal, then buttered toast.
No. Nothing silences your voice
weaving through the dawn chorus. No.
