I could not sleep
morning had got to me
the first birds, the orange light
promises of creation
I could not sleep so went shopping
The supermarket
still in its half-dark shell
with all the quiet solemnity of a church
waiting for the congregation
I bow my head in prayer
count my blessings, exactly five
what will I make
The few shoppers scuttling the aisles
have faces like unbuttered toast
the floor buffer floats ever closer
as I waver over multipacks of tuna
what will I make
Crinkled cellophane catches the light
like mica flashing in rock
the onion bag crackles in my hand
like birthday wrapping
Here, a woebegone turnip
There, a forlorn squash
my eye collapses into water
I blink it back into solidity now,
I'm crying over the oranges
picking one up to remind myself
what a sphere feels like
what will I make
the day goes like all days go
some concessions, several excuses
so in the blue glow of evening
huddled over the stove
I throw the contents into a pot
and let night boil down
just what I've made
with my day
