The Morning, If It Must

the morning groans as she untangles from the covers worn and blunt from the night before her eyes puffed and wrinkled, wrinkled and blink winking with bleary sting. mustard gas sinking swallowing in the hollows choking the cities yellow choking the grass grown over grave row choking the green grass brown burying the noble and their children who only wanted revenge on each other say, the ghost shirt. say, for the virgin no more wire, no more line it all gets sent through collapsing time between towers of aluminum drowning man, drowning with the fear of that fire that he has forgotten, or the fire that has forgotten him fingering dull charms that he has wrapped round the neck. to study on to construct worry on like a rosary. a rosary of dull, clanking, cold charms to keep him occupied to keep the morning meaning full material, predictable to keep an attempted faith still able