MORNING
Aleja Taddesse
makes a bad thing sing
makes a bad thing serenade suffering
mourning, slurring, feeding and tweeting under a brief blue sky
fumes and snuffed beams from night drives,
linger in patterns
sequences of stop-start sleep
morning brings a million revolutions a minute—
we are working, pedalling through
not as radical, resolute, as morning news presumes
morning—
a
released kite
silk skirt on cocoa-buttered
skin.
morning, kin, morning friend, morning bossman!
who we praying for this morning?
where to cast our morning paper?
morning beautiful, fervent fodder
morning, let us now sing.