The morning makes me nervous
Some days
Until the music starts
Being jumpy isn’t dancing
I guess
But maybe I’m playing the strings so beautifully eerie
In my head
I’m moving me with it
Coffee helps and saying
Quiet to all the no ones
When the bold nights fight for me
I’m not certain
Who to root for
I know what a forest looks like
The inside of the beloved’s mouth
Shadows and pale reds and a threat
The dogs inevitably want back in
The coffee being cold by the last
Drink of it
I love “I’m not certain/Who to root for”! Lovely poem.