Aubade but we stay together
the whole day after
Every morning I wake up, I want
to choke the rooster. Except today, waiting
in the dark for you even though
the sun is insistent bursting
behind the curtain. I can tell by the white
slats shining on your face
making your eyes grey or at least
looking that way. When you unfurl
from the blanket, you are always talking
about infinite music and the various ways
your stomach hurts. I think
to put my hand which is a medicine
against it but I am too busy
thanking the ceiling fan you woke
up again. It is listening
and the whole room smells like sleeping
in sweat after a holiday. You never want to hurt
anything and even if you do
it’s with feathers. I save the rooster
for you. I say good morning but really I mean
keep telling me about the music. How it makes us
go on forever and point
toward the same square of light.
Jo Wallace is a poet from Indiana. They are an M.F.A. student at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and the Poetry Editor of Witness. Their work has appeared in Olney, Beaver Magazine, Eunoia Review, and elsewhere.