Eric Ashford Poet Free verse

Dawn Dreaming

Finally, the light opens its mouth,
speaks for the fading shadow-forms,
that are slipping away,
over the pale moon.

Dogs sniff the freshening air.
Cats roll over, nap again,
for as long as it takes.

I used to smoke,
I would go out into the unmade dawn,
and smoke until the world
took shape around me.

Now I sit in a dark kitchen,
sip black coffee,
breathe through a deviated septum,
waiting for the next sucker punch,
or the birth
of a newly christened Jesus.

Last night, in an addictive dream
a spectral Amazon van,
delivered a box of Lucky Strikes.

I smoked them all by morning.

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