How she wakes up

By D.S. Moalalai

cold cuts

like dry wire. morning;

a cold water sponge.

and around the ocean

the coast road

hangs like a necklace,

studded with pearls

and the headlights of cars,

the lights coming on

in the second floors

of houses.

morning; the city

the blue

of nighttime dresses

piled in the corner

and stepped on

by empty shoes. the sea out,

the sand wracked, dry

and spotting with broken

beer bottles.

skin; a woman's skin. tired

getting up in the morning

with last night's make-up

cracking at the eyes like eggs

being broke in the kitchen

on the side of a cast

iron frying pan.

©2020 by Variant Literature Inc.