Caffeine and Cerberus

Awake half the night,
then the alarm goes off
and I’m struggling toward consciousness
through a thicket of burning REM cycles.
Half-finished threads snarl around my feet:
“Don’t wake up!” Like insubstantial Cerberi
guarding the path back to life
(that is, coffee).

The day still tastes of dream.
At the bottom of my cup
there’s a crust of Cremora,
less informative than tea leaves.
Am I awake?


Collection available! Knocking from Inside