an ode to sleep (but also to mornings)
it’s been more than once that I
have fallen asleep with a cup of hotel coffee
next to me and woken up to a dark sky
(is it possible to have emotional jet lag?)
daytime dysphoria is not cured by going home at night
and burrowing into my own covers
but crawling out from under them
and into the morning light
curling my hands around warm mugs,
the way that steam curls up from them
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